Yarrow's Tale
by filfda
Summary: Yarrow, the daughter of a Journeyman Chronicler and a Singer, is deaf. She was brought with the two Harpers when they went on a mission to Southern Hold, to investigate the death of Lord Toric. But now her parents have died and she's stuck there.. ch1
1. Chapter 1

Author note: This is my first fanfic, so I apologise for any screw-ups. Other parts of this story are forthcoming... and please review!

The characters I made up should be apparent; those by Anne McCaffrey are her property. I'm just a fan!

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Yarrow's Tale

by filfda

Yarrow rolled over, humming to herself. It was a pleasant sensation; she could feel the vibrations rolling around in her skull, even if she couldn't hear them directly. _What do they know anyway?_ she thought. One minute more of this, and then she got up; if she didn't, her aunt and uncle would be on her like grubs on a dead body. _About as pleasant, too._

The nightmare was still smashing at her mind, as she rose and threw on a light dress with a buckle. Worn fabric for a worn mind. She shook her head to clear it -- hopefully. But Yarrow kept seeing visions of Lord Holder Toric dying. It always happened like that, and the man always died in different ways. But he always yelled the same thing, and she wished she could hear it... wished she could hear anything. But then, would her Harper parents have trusted her with Harper secrets, like their real reason for visiting Southern? "Something's not right down there," she remembered her father signing to her with a wag of his head and a finger pointing at the map they had for where to go. "Masterharper Sebell wants us to investigate."

By "us," he meant Yarrow's mother too, but she knew they would also be taking her. Porilan had been very protective of his daughter since she'd been born, like she was a rock crystal or something. The Journeyman of Composition, Masterharper Sebell's second apprentice, made sure he knew what she was doing almost every second of the day, be it playing with some of the Hall firelizards or helping out in the kitchens with ever-so-patient Silvina.

She didn't know what the fuss was about; nobody really told her much, and she only really heard facts like this one: they were to go, and that was that. Not even Yarrow's mother Ulia said otherwise. She just made sure Yarrow packed clothes.

They were gone now; it didn't matter anymore. Now Yarrow was stuck with people she wasn't even related to -- who, if they even guessed why Yarrow's parents had come to the Continent, kept up the pretense for their convenience. They could always use a personal drudge, a free one at that. Who cared about Lord Toric dying anyway? Yarrow had wondered from the start what the big deal was. Harpers were strange sometimes. But that was not her life now.

Sure enough, there was Mink in the doorway, making rapid signs about how his cousin better get up before The Parents arrived. Yarrow and Mink had a sort of cautious neutrality to their relations; he didn't want to anger his parents, and his parents hated his deaf cousin, but he liked her well enough to give her these warnings. Mink had on his wrinkled blue tunic, that he wore in defiance of his father, so he must be feeling especially impish today. He pestered Harper Undabran often enough for her to know what he wanted to become someday. _I wonder how long it will take before he gets his ears boxed for it -- this time,_ she thought. Mink did things just to irritate his parents, sometimes, she was sure. And it didn't take much to irritate Hannin and Petia.

No matter thatYarrow's own father had been a Master at the Harper Hall far away on the North Continent, and her mother had once been a singer there. When they'd been in Southern, where Yarrow felt it was far too hot, for only a sevenday, Porilan had gone out "fishing" (which Yarrow felt odd since he was from Ruatha, a decidedly landbound Hold). The boat had washed up in pieces near Southern, and Yarrow's mother had gone bezerk, like a firelizard around an angry dragon. "Listen to me!" she'd signed to the girl emphatically over and over, grabbing plump shoulders. Her nails had bit into the thin fabric of the Southern-style dress Yarrow had taken to wearing, as she'd signed rapidly something about "if something happens to either of us, Yarrow, you are to investigate -- it's very important that you investigate... Fax!" Yarrow knew her history well enough, but this had made no sense. Lord Fax and -- well most of his issue were long gone. She knew vaguely that nobody had liked Lord Toric as it was, so why the concern? But her mother didn't say why she was telling the girl either; she seemed to know something was going to happen.

Yarrow's mother had been devastated and died from heartache after three days of tossing and turning with fever, during which she signed over and over about "dangers" and "another Fax...", leaving the girl in the charge of her gruesome "relatives". She wished she could have been fostered to Master Menolly. The woman who could do _anything... _And then she wouldn't have been left here, with this _family._ Oh, Petia was nice _sometimes,_ really, but... but... she was just so...

* * *

"Stupid!" the slim Lady Holder yelled, as her son's dog bit at her downstairs. Yarrow found it was sometimes a curse to be able to read lips. _So it's 'kick the dog day', is it?_ she thought, and armed herself mentally for battle. The dog scurried over to her, visibly whimpering. Didn't matter what he did wrong; he didn't often do anything wrong as far as Yarrow was concerned.

She waved to her "aunt" and sat down at the table. _Fall today,_ Mink conveyed to her in sloppy signing. She'd tried to teach him -- her cousin was certainly the brighter of the group -- but he only half comprehended what she was saying. It went about as well as her father trying to teach her uncle to write comprehensible words.

That explained the ringing in Yarrow's ears. Despite her uncle's constant insistance to visitors that she was "deaf and dumb" -- and of course therefore no good to anyone, not even to marry off -- Yarrow had a very good sensory system. The Masterhealer at the Halls had pronounced her fit as a fiddle when she was younger. Yarrow could produce sound, even, and had been trying for several years now to learn to speak -- something she hid from her relatives. She'd be ridiculed for it, if they knew. As it was, though, she could only so far produce a humming.

_Maybe B'nick will come_, she thought hopefully. Everyone here hated Fall, because it meant going out to see the grubs doing their duty -- the Hold's Harper, Undabran, insisted on it. To him, this was teaching. Yarrow thought that the middle-aged man had come to the same conclusion as she had when he'd gotten here; that these people were worse than drudges, and things like the grubbing needed to be drilled into their thick heads. But B'nick was a different story; he was a friend of hers from the Halls who'd come South with F'lessan and the others, a Dragonrider/Harper, first of his kind, and he and his dragon Visigoth could talk to Yarrow in ways that nobody else could. Yarrow got tingles down her spine when she thought of that.

Sure enough, there were the rough, thick hands on her shoulders as she finished her morning klah and some tubers. The hands turned her around forcibly, making her look into the face of her uncle.

He knew she could read lips. "THERE -- WILL -- BE -- FALL -- TO-- DAY," he said, slowly like he was talking to a dunce. "DO -- YOU -- UN -- DER -- STAND?" For emphasis, the man took a hand and made little falling gesticulations with it, like it was raining.

Yarrow nodded. There was really nothing more she could do about it; when they were alive, her parents had both done their best to convince Petia and Hannin that no, the girl was in fact intelligent, and they'd been shut down by "common sense," as Mink said the two called it.

Weyrleader T'gellan, who came to check on them every so often -- as he should, as the Harper was constantly reminding them all -- would probably not have liked the knowledge that one of "his" Holders was illiterate. But there was no way for him to know, and no way for Yarrow, certainly, to get word to him.

There was only B'nick, the Greenrider at the Weyr here... and he was hard enough to contact. No, she was left alone with these people. Toric's heir since the Lord Holder's sudden death, and his numbweed-brained wife.

Hannin went on: "YOU -- NEED -- TO -- WRITE --" he made little scribbling signs "-- IN -- THE -- LOG. THE -- DATE -- IS -- TWENTY-FIVE-TWENTY-NINE -- WINTER..."

_Someday,_ she thought, _I'll leave here, and run -- run like Menolly did, or -- or anybody..._ but the trouble was, Yarrow couldn't think of anyone like B'nick wouldn't take her away; Greenriders didn't marry. They just -- well, they didn't, that was all. _Some of them do,_ she corrected herself, remembering Lady Tia, Rider F'lessan's mate. But most Greenriders -- just didn't marry. She wasn't too sure about the rest, and the _why _of it, but...

Suddenly, Yarrow's ears vibrated painfully. Rush, Mink's bronze firelizard, came zipping into the hall, blinking in and out of the air with tiny sonic booms that only Yarrow seemed to catch -- but she resisted the urge to put her hands over her head. That made her uncle beat her, she'd learned a while ago. Nisha and Tointel, her little greens, who were better trained, came right for their mistress and lighted on the table near her, eyeing Hannin with suspicion, like always. They projected pictures of hunting to her, and a big feline... then the silvery strands that Yarrow knew meant Fall. _I know, dears._

"THAT'S -- THE -- " her uncle started in again after making some rude jestures at his son, but thankfully he was interrupted by Undabran's wrinkled hand on his shoulder. The Harper jabbed a finger in Yarrow's direction and said something like "she knows what you're saying," to the man, who shook his head and walked off with it still wagging.

Yarrow and Undabran, who knew a small bit of signing himself, since Harpers had their own secret-speak, looked at one another. She put her hands to her ears and made a face, and he nodded, making a face of his own. She didn't really like the man too much, but he was all right sometimes. It was like the rest of the Hold: all right, but nothing special. "We have to go outside to observe Threadfall," he said to her. Everyone in the Hold knew Yarrow could read lips; it was just that not everyone understood her.

Her ears would be ringing for a while, she knew, but that wasn't important. Yarrow followed the rest of the Hold outside, crying children -- a different vibration -- and all. Harper lessons were supposed to be taken seriously. Sanetor's heir seemed to be intent on that one.

She knew the Lord and Lady of Southern were called Abominators, people against the technology of some sort that had been found on the Continent -- purists. They said that the things would destroy the old ways, and that the race on Pern would die out. She liked the Harper who talked to her of these things when he could; Undabran believed that there could be a proper balance someday between the technology of old and new times. He insisted on the people of Southern going out to watch Threadfall because he didn't want those ways dying out -- while Hannin and Petia, Yarrow was sure, thought he was going to help them preserve those old ways till they became the only Hold on Pern that kept to them anymore, and then they'd save the world just like Lessa once did.

Never mind that Lessa was a Weyrwoman, something Yarrow could never imagine Petia being. Everything she'd ever heard of Weyrwomen said they were strong people, intense. Petia was about as intense as numbweed. The Lady Holder of Southern only cared about ordering other people around -- little enough at that.

As they went out the thick Hold doors, Yarrow saw her "aunt" wince just like always. Nisha and Tointel remained in the doorway with Mink's bronze, broadcasting worry for their mistress. Yarrow saw her "uncle" mutter something about the Riders protecting them -- he hoped. _If he's so intent on preserving the olden ways,_ B'nick had once asked her, laughing, _why is he -- Lord Holder of Southern where the Riders still fly -- afraid of Fall like he is?_

For her part, Yarrow loved to watch Fall. She knew it was dangerous; the people in the North Continent, where it was too cold for grubs, had to stay indoors during the Falls. She'd gone outside with the ground crews after Fall to make sure the land was cleared off, and after Fall she'd gone with a blowtorch to make sure every last bit of the wriggling pests were dead. But there was something lovely about them, in her opinion -- it must be something the hearing world couldn't understand.

Silvery rains fell down towards the ground, where the grubs dashed to meet them in frenzied excitement. _What's it like to be a grub,_ Yarrow wondered, fascinated by the sight, as she always was.

_Wouldn't you want to know? _sent a familiar voice. Yarrow felt an excited thrill pass through her, and she forgot the ringing in her ears, the nightmare, her dislike

_Visigoth!_

_Hah -- I see that I'm to be worth tubers today, _sent B'nick, feigning insult.

_You are both welcome -- really welcome, _Yarrow sent, relieved. She sensed laughter -- and understanding, from both Dragon and Rider. Suddenly the world was good again.


	2. Chapter 2

Yarrow was checking glows later when Mink came to bother her. Sure enough: "Rider B'nick wants to see you," he signed slowly. Normally Yarrow would have run.

It had been a pretty boring day, after Fall. When their Harper felt they'd had enough of the scene, and had had it drilled into their heads yet again that even though the grubs ate just about every trace of the parasite that made it to ground, it was still not advisable to go outside during Fall. And furthermore, he'd added, they needed to honor the Riders who tried to keep the grubs from having too much work to do.

...Which had sparked another argument between uncles and so on about whether the Riders were useful or not anymore, which meant Undabran had pulled out his lyre and done _Moreta's Ride_ for them, to remind them of just what a Dragonrider was good for aside from "just" killing off parasites. Yarrow knew all the words to the song, and sort of knew how to hum it, though she durst not do that around her relatives. It was bad enough having to sit next to her aunt while the ballad went on, with the finger pointing forcibly at the page so Yarrow "could read it, and maybe understand it a little..."

That had kept Yarrow from doing the glows for a little bit -- which didn't please her much. It was a pleasant task, actually; what her relatives called "chores", which meant anything that made Mink screw up his nose, was nice to Yarrow: she liked the patterns. It was Yarrow's duty to sweep the fireplace, check the glows and change them when they needed changing -- a task nobody liked -- and write in the log. Nobody outside their little hold knew that she did the latter; it was the duty of the Lord of the Hold to know his letters, and somehow Hannin had let that past him. Hannin had in fact somehow slipped it past the old Harper, Sanetor, for two years, before they'd even gotten there, and when Undabran had come the Holder had just said something like he was "so busy, and well Yarrow needed something to do, poor thing..."

Now, Yarrow pursed her lips in frustration. It wasn't that she didn't want to see B'nick and Visigoth, but --

_We understand!_ the thought charged into the girl's mind, and she felt calmer. That was the thing with talking to Dragons, Yarrow had found years ago; they understood things. _And so do Riders!_ she felt from B'nick. _Take your time. We're staying a couple days at the least._

Yarrow signed to Mink after a moment's thought, that she wanted to go, but she needed to finish _her duty _with the glows. He signed back, rolling his eyes, that he didn't understand her; he'd much rather talk to the Dragonrider. But he went away, before his mother could catch him and wrangle him into helping Yarrow like she sometimes did.

Left all alone, Yarrow started humming to herself again. She could feel the vibrations in her eardrums, and she took her time glow after glow. The baskets were of rough material, the glows ever so slightly warm to the touch. They varied a tiny bit in color, she'd found a while before this, if you looked close enough -- they reminded of a toy she'd once been given when she was a little girl, that was called a "dragon's eye." Yarrow didn't understand what that meant at the time, but the various facets that constantly changed color had remained burned into her brain forever afterward. Glows were, to her, a different version of that -- just like Visigoth's or any other real dragon's eyes were a different version.

She grinned: she'd been humming _Moreta's Ride_. Oh, if Aunt Petia heard her now!

Glow, glow, glow... Yarrow swept the stairs as she went, for good measure. She thought of the Hold as a hexagon, divided into shapes that were little hexagons. There was the Great Hall, there was the Grand Stairway, there were her relatives' rooms, there the watchtower with its great drum that only went off when some news was going on -- in other words, this was not common.

_Could you come now?_ a voice that could only be B'nick asked plaintively in her head. _Your aunt is trying to force-feed me pie..._

_* * *_

That was an emergency, then! Yarrow knew how bad her aunt's cooking could be. She abandoned all thought of going to her cousin's room to tidy it up some for him, and dashed away to the Inner Hall, where she sensed they were.

The Inner Hall was decked out with things for the winter; last Gather they'd gotten a massive amount of cloth that her aunt had never gotten to sewing into anything, and so it had all been tucked away in here. The conversation Yarrow had with herself on the matter had been something like "Well, I could make myself a new dress with it...." "No, they think you can't sew, so they'd take it away from you." "But I can do it -- look at this yellow!"

...and so on. And, since nobody but the Lady of the Hold was allowed to give permission to do such things, nobody else had picked up a needle and thread and gone to work at the fabric. It was destined to mold and wither away, Yarrow decided sadly, seeing it again as she returned to the Hall.

B'nick bolted out of his seat when he saw Yarrow, and for her aunt's sake started signing to her in rapid fingerings, about this and that and whatever. It was really just babble, to get rid of the woman -- and it worked, like it always did. With that irritatingly polite smile on her face, Petia nodded to Yarrow and left the room.

_Thank all the shells, she's gone -- do you know how bad that porridge is?_

_I've had to eat it!_

_Oh, you poor thing! I feel so unbelievably _sorry _for you!_

Yarrow hugged the muscular Greenrider. He felt nice and -- well he felt "friend," to her, in a way that nobody here at the Hold did. _He feels good,_ Visigoth sent. Yes, he felt good.

_I think your aunt is trying to convince me to -- ah -- take you away._

_You don't want to,_ Yarrow sent back, with a sigh. She often wished it would happen, though she knew -- well something was different.

_Yes, something's different,_ her friend sent with a wry smile. _Otherwise, believe me I'd do it._

He was uncomfortable now, she could tell; B'nick had shifted in his seat, and he was pursing his lips, and he was turning a little reddish. So Yarrow decided to change the subject.

_What is it you brought for me, anyway?_ she asked and was greeted with a flood of relief.

_C'mon; Visigoth says she wants to see you and get a hug._

The green was gorgeous as always. Yarrow stood staring for a long while, admiring how the sunlight reflected off the scale-like hide, that somehow seemed always to her to shimmer, twinkling in the shade, becoming many colors all in one. She walked from the tip of his tail to the neck, and giggled as he nuzzled her with his dainty snout. _You are lovely as ever,_ she sent to him and got warm feelings of love back.

Meanwhile, B'nick was digging in his pack, and he pulled out a small drum. _I talked with Master Oldive up at the Healing Hall, and he says you can probably sense vibrations if you can hear us,_ he sent, showing it to her. _So I thought, well, it might be a good thing for you -- something to do -- when you aren't doing drudge work around the Hall. Something more befitting of the daughter of a former Harper._

She thought a minute about telling him and Visigoth about her humming, and trying to speak, and then she thought better of it. _They might tell others who'd get back to my aunt and uncle..._

_Thanks,_ she sent instead.

* * *

Sure enough, it happened. "Why did he give you _that_," Mink signed to Yarrow when she showed him the drum. Of all the people at the Hold, she would have thought he'd at least understand a little bit. She vibrated her hands near her head to show that she could sense vibrations, a thing she'd told him before, but he still didn't seem to get it. He just rolled his eyes.

Yarrow took the drum to Undabran, then, after nooning. He sent an exclamation, eyes wide, and then signed asking if she could play it. When she shook her head, he signed that he could teach her, but she'd have done better off to go back with that Greenrider -- yes, he knew what they were better than she did -- to the Harper Hall, to learn from a real Drum-master.

Yarrow shook her head at this. She pointed to the watchtower, which was so often silent, and signed that she wanted to work there.

The Harper frowned. He hummed at her then, questioning with a tip of his head.

Yarrow sighed and nodded. _I really can't keep secrets from you, can I?_ she thought, remembering her father's old saying about how impossible it was to keep a secret from a Harper.

The man she now faced grinned.

"This will be very helpful," he signed to her cryptically.

Yarrow groaned; why did Harpers have to be so secretive?

Undabran made the sign for "T", which she was sure meant Toric... _That again! _she thought impatiently. _Why is everyone so worried about him?_

The Harper seemed to sense her irritation, and he took her hands in his and squeezed them, with that look on his face that all grownups got when they wanted you to "wait till you're older." But in this case, Yarrow could tell there was a slight difference.

"Why him?" she signed forcibly.

Undabran signed back that "the green" was her helper in this. That must mean B'nick. _So, I got the drum for a reason, then,_ she thought, and felt a tinge of disappointment, though she couldn't tell why. "Learn the drum well," was all the Harper would add to that. Vehemently.

* * *

Over time, Yarrow worked at drumming. Hannin and Petia thought this a ridiculous waste of time for the Harper, but they couldn't say anything more about it.

_Maybe if I learn to drum well enough,_ she thought, _he'll tell me why I need to learn it so badly and what my parents were doing here... and then I can leave!_ She'd tried to run away once when her mother died, but her "aunt" had dragged her back and she was beaten for the first time in her life. _Maybe then I can go to the Harper Hall and be trained as a drummer..._ She didn't have the skills to do whatever else her parents had intended down here, she was sure of that.

She learned to tap her fingers to create vibrations in different ways, to make beats for songs, and to do little codes. Yarrow loved that; she already knew a bit about code from signing, and so she learned drum-code fast. She would tap out a code along the walls as she changed glows or made beds, she would dance to a drum that beat in her mind when she was all alone, she would play her drum as often as she could.

"THIS -- IS -- RID-I-CU-LOUS!" Hannin said to her one day in spring, when Yarrow had been tapping at her drum all morning.

She pointed to the drum, and the scroll that Undebran had given her, showing she was supposed to practice it -- she pointed up toward the watchtower.

"YOU -- CANNOT -- PLAY -- THAT," her uncle was clearly yelling. "YOU -- ARE -- NOT -- THINKING -- CLEARLY!"

Yarrow pushed the fat man away and stood up with hands on hips. "I am going to be a drummer," she signed, "and for once I do not care if you understand me or not!"

He growled at her and stomped out of the room.

That was not the end of it, though. An hour later, Mink came to her. "He's mad," her cousin signed. "I hate it when he's mad. Why did you get him mad?"

She signed to him that it wasn't her fault, but Mink shook his head.

Petia came later, and made Yarrow look at her. "I know B'nick had good intentions," she told Yarrow slowly, "but this is not something you can do. Clearly. It's sound -- and you are deaf! Do you understand?"

Yarrow shook her head, and tried to show her aunt that she could indeed play, but was told the same thing.

"In a sevenday old Acorn will be coming by with his trader cart," the woman told her, "and I'm going to give you to him. He's asked for you before, you see. You're a good worker, Yarrow, but we can't keep you here any longer. And the Dragonrider is clearly leading you on. I have it on good authority that Greenriders do not marry! Shells know what he would have done with you. But Acorn can give you a good life, and you'll have a trade."

Yarrow shook her head vehemently, pointing firmly to the drum she'd been at.

"I feel bad for you, dear, not understanding that this is not possible," Petia said and rolled her eyes sadly. "But you'll soon forget this, when you become a busy mate. I wish you could hear me...!"

She went on and on, and Yarrow groaned inwardly. _I hear more than you ever will,_ she thought miserably. _I'm being passed off, an unwanted relative. I'm meaningless..._

She went to see Undebran that eve, after supper, once she had spent an hour checking glows and tapping on the walls. The Harper did not look surprised to see her. "I know," he signed with a touch to his head. "I wish I could do something. Send you to Cove Hold, or something like that. But you aren't my apprentice, and I cannot just give you to the Harpers without them having a reason to believe in you. Even Menolly had that." He knew that Menolly was Yarrow's heroine.

Yarrow waved her arms frantically, signing that she just could not do this! She was going to be a drummer, and make her parents proud.

The Harper took her hands and made her look at him. "They are proud," he said firmly to her.

Yarrow went out for a walk as the Dawn Sisters rose. Even though she knew what they were, it didn't make their beauty any different to the girl. _I'm only sixteen Turns old,_ she told them; _surely that's too young to be someone's mate? _

She blinked, feeling the dolphins' vibrations nearby. _Come play! Come play! _they cried, their whistles sharp in Yarrow's ears. She realized she was down by the Bay... wasn't there a half-abandoned shack here, that someone had the nerve to insist was a holding? _Come play!_

_No, don't do that,_ came the Dragon's message just as Yarrow was seriously starting to think of running. A different Dragon than the one she knew. _I'm F'lessan,_ came the new message. Oh. F''lessan was the Dragonrider/Holder to the west of Southern. _If you can hear dragons..._

_No, she is a little different on that account, _the Dragon argued.

_I'm deaf, _Yarrow sent to confirm that.

She waited a minute.

_So?_

_Come play! _cried the dolphins in Yarrow's mind.

Then, all of a sudden, it came barreling into her brain like a herd of Runners stampeding: _Whatever happens, you need to stay at that Hold!_ That was B'nick and Visigoth in unison. Yarrow knew dragons talked to one another like she talked to them, but she still didn't understand this.

_Why? _she demanded, stamping her foot in the sand. _What's so important? My parents came here and died here! _

_We know, _came a sensation that was like several voices at once. _We are sorry for that. But you must stay; you are inconspicuous because of who you are. You were given that drum for a reason, Yarrow. Look inside it._

She took the drum off her shoulder and found a slit that had been concealed in the side of it, one so thin as to not disrupt the sound that was coming from the instrument, she guessed. An excited thrill ran through her: Harper secrets! By working her finger inside, she managed to pull out a small scroll of wherhide:

_My dear_

_If you have gotten this, one or both of us is dead. Keep the drum with you always -- _do not _let anyone take it! Harper can teach you the basics. You will need to know them soon. _

_I know we did not tell you much about it all; know we love you. Talk to the Green and others like it. Always remember others like it! _

_Remember who -- and what -- you are._

_Love_

Yarrow sat for a long time on the beach before heading back to the Hold. She slid the scroll back into the drum, as inconspicuous as before.


	3. Chapter 3

Undebran was arguing with Petia again. Yarrow watched them while she sat at table. The servants were watching too, from beyond the dais, but she had a close-up view. The topic was a familiar one; they'd been arguing about Yarrow's impending nuptials for several days.

"She needs to go off," Petia said forcibly. "I can't stand having her here -- look at her! What would the Weyrleaders think if they saw her? I'm sure it's the reason nobody from Southern Weyr has come in ages, not except that Green, and we all know what _those _are good for..."

_No, we do not all know, _Yarrow thought acidly. She knew better than to try and ask, however. They'd just laugh at her for _not _knowing something that "obviously everyone understood." Even Mink did so at times.

"My Lady, what if there were an emergency and someone needed to drum for help?" asked the Harper with just as much force -- even more, as he banged a fist on the table so hard Yarrow saw dishes bounce and she could feel the vibration in her ears. "She's getting very good with that drum she has."

This only brought laughter, as Yarrow saw. She ducked her head down as Petia turned in her direction to indicate her. So, she didn't see the rest of the conversation, but she knew it had to be something derisive. That was how it usually ended up.

When she'd waited a proper few minutes, the argument seemed over; Petia was sitting with a triumphant smile on her face, and the Harper looked like he was going to boil over. But they weren't done, she found.

He looked right at the Lady Holder, and said, "the Weyrleaders haven't come, Petia, because they have been in mourning for Lord Toric."

Yarrow blinked. _He was a friend of the Weyrleaders?_ she thought. _No wonder Mother and Father came to see what happened to him -- though, didn't he just die..?_

That was when Hannin raised his round head and fixed the Harper with a steely glare all his own. But there was something else in that look, which Yarrow couldn't explain. "Don't _ever _mention that name in this house again!" he said, "and for the record, the Weyrleaders all hated Toric. It's in the logs..." He got up from the table and stomped out of the room, but not before glaring at Yarrow. He pointed for her to leave, too. "This is not your conversation, girl. You wouldn't understand the delicacies of it." He didn't even bother to be sure she was staring at him.

_Fine,_ she thought, shrugging. She'd already done the glows again, helped make the beds with Irina one of the chambermaids, and now she was determined she'd do some drumming. They didn't even care if she did needlework or anything, as she'd learned some parents did -- Mink had made a casual remark to that effect months ago. And much as they stamped and hollered about the drum, she figured they must be too afraid to take a Rider's gift away from someone.

So, she was in her room practicing, when Undabran burst in. Rapidly, the Harper signed to her that she needed to drum the Weyr that he needed a ride -- he was leaving.

Yarrow's eyes nearly bulged out of her head. She shook it vehemently; if he went, she'd have no friends left! But the Harper seemed determined. He signed to her that he had been dismissed, which almost made the girl fall over.

"Tell me what my parents were here for," she signed to him. "Please?"

Undabran sighed visibly, running a hand through brown hair with a trace of pepper. "All right," he said, "only because you will still be here -- I have done everything I could to make sure of that! You need to pick up where your parents -- and myself -- left off. The Harper Hall, and Benden Weyr, believe Lord Toric was murdered."

"A son of his?" Yarrow signed. She'd read a lot at the Hall and there was much in the archives about sons killing parents or plotting as cousins to get hold of prime territory. Fax was a good example. But Lord Fax was long dead, and Hannin was no son of his; as far as she knew, Fax's get were dead.

The Harper shook his head. "We don't know why Lord Toric's sons aren't here," he signed to her, shrugging. "But," he pointed to her, "you need to find out. You are to marry Mink; I convinced Petia that having Harper blood in the family would bring prestige to it no matter who is in it -- sorry, but I had to put it that way. She insists you cannot drum, so you need to now more than ever! And, I'm afraid, there are wifely duties..." he turned red at this.

_Marry Mink?_ she thought. It wasn't as bad as being wedded to old Acorn, but she still doubted -- she hoped -- that the boy would have been her parents' choice. _And... wifely duties? _She already knew how to do beds -- but then, as the wife of the heir to the Holding, would she need to do so anymore? What was he talking about?

The Harper did not elaborate, however. "Go drum now," he signed, pointing to the tower.

* * *

B'nick answered. Yarrow went out with the Harper to meet the Greenrider and his dragon. Normally, she knew from her lessons when much younger, when a Harper left a post it was proper for the Lord and Lady of the Hold where he'd been stationed to come out as a polite and honorable thing to do. But nobody here seemed to know that.

_They do not understand,_ said Visigoth in Yarrow's mind after their warm embrace.

_He fought for me,_ Yarrow told the dragon, _and now I can stay here -- but I have to wed their son._ She wrinkled her nose.

_Dragons sometimes mate with those they dislike,_ Visigoth sent her, _they mate with the one who is the most powerful, who wins the dragonflight._

_And,_ B'nick added, cutting in, _if you ever have a problem with him, I can think of at least five dragons and their riders who'll be here on the instant. Don't worry for your safety._

But she did worry. As Yarrow watched the Harper and his ride lift off, she thought about how alone, how very alone, she now was.

* * *

The marriage of a Lord Holder's son, Yarrow found, was of apparently much more worth than the marriage of a Trader -- it didn't seem to matter that it was _the deaf girl, the foundling_ who was marrying him, as some of the servants put it when they thought she wasn't able to see them talking. Petia went over great amounts of fabric with her, all of it musty -- which then meant that the resentful servants had to wash all of it in the brook. Yarrow got a good amount of complaints in her face.

"...So -- do you understand what marriage means? Such an important marriage?" Petia would ask. "IM-PORT-ANT? Do you see?" And then, after she had become absolutely sure Yarrow didn't, the Lady Holder would go on a ramble about things that Yarrow was sure she wouldn't understand even if she could hear.

Thankfully, Yarrow was the only one there who could drum, and she spent as much time in the tower as she could, now. That was fairly easy; invitation after invitation went to every Hold, Weyr, and Crafthall on the planet, as far as Yarrow could tell. She laughed to herself, wondering who actually would come.

Sure enough, Yarrow was not supposed to check glows or anything like that anymore, Petia told her in no uncertain terms. Instead Yarrow was now -- well, she wasn't supposed to do anything, really, except fill in the log book. "It's a very important job," Petia said firmly. "So you shouldn't feel ashamed -- when I think of how few girls in this place are around suitable for bonding! But then, they don't _visit..._ well, that will change. Do you know, when my cousin was still single, girls were brought from miles around to see him, and for his perusal? Ah, that will be good to see again. You have the hips for it..." she patted Yarrow on the hip, making her flinch at the presumption.

_Are people really supposed to just sit back and take this treatment? _Yarrow wondered, seething inside, but then she'd taken the nastiness she'd faced before this.

"... oh yes, we'll have some good stock -- legal stock too!" Petia went on as if she had not noticed Yarrow's discomfort. "Why, when I think... but never mind. Toric clearly wasn't a good Holder if he lost this place so easily. So! You will breed the new generation of heirs for this hold, and we will be completely legal again." She stuck her face right in front of Yarrow's. "Don't think I don't know the Harper Hall is suspicious of us -- that is why we had to let that fool Undebran go! Ah, well, if we have to rely on _Traders _for music -- since they don't even have Gathers here, the last one was at Landing years ago -- then we must. You don't understand a word of this, do you?" She shook her head and patted Yarrow's hip again with a grin. "Well, just as long as you give children..."

Yarrow raced to the drum tower as soon as she could. Maybe there was something to this idea about Lord Toric being murdered after all, she thought. "Legal," what did Petia mean by that? How was she to get it out of the woman? Yarrow had not been trained in spying about, she was just able to learn things and fool others into thinking she wouldn't repeat whatever she might see.

Now, she wondered, once she was up in the drum tower, where to call? The Weyr? That was closest... or what about Cove Hold or Landing? Was there a tower at Landing? she wondered. Finally she drummed the Weyr: _Lord and Lady suspicious. They want Hold. Harpers beware._

Hannin grabbed her arm roughly as she was coming down from the tower, so hard she'd have yelled if she could. "WHAT -- WERE -- YOU -- DOING???" he asked, his face very close to hers.

"PRAC-TI-CING," she said firmly into that ugly mug. She wrenched her arm free and walked off, head high.

It was a good excuse, but it was a lie; she hadn't put the "practice" tag on the end of the message so that others would know it wasn't meant to be canon. She could only hope nobody here really understood the drums.


	4. Chapter 4

_The characters of Piemur, Jancis, their son (who I didn't name here but will later on), and Farli, as well as certain locations, are the property of Anne McCaffrey. Other stuff is mine._

_I hope you guys enjoy this chapter; getting the right tone for intrigue is tough!_

_Thanks for reading:)_

B'nick came, and that was all Yarrow would have hoped for. He looked very handsome in his Gather jacket and pants, that were edged in gold with black-and-red leaves embroidered on them. _Visigoth's very excited for you._

Petia and Hannin, on the other hand, were not pleased. They seemed to consider the lack of Riders from the Weyr -- especially the Weyrleaders -- insulting. They greeted the Greenrider coolly. Even Mink, who usually liked the man, seemed a little distant.

"Too few," he signed, shaking his head. Yarrow looked at the people of the Holding filing in, wearing their Gather best with fake-happy smiles, and she felt like there were too many, in fact. They filled the Great Hall; servants had had to move tables to the sides. She only recognized a few of them: The man over there had to be Piemur, who she had never seen but had seen described once when she looked back in the log and saw an acidic entry by Lord Toric about "the boy"...

But, this was no longer a boy. The dark head tinged with grey nodded to her, and headed over.

Yarrow was startled when he began signing to her. She blinked.

But the Harper/Explorer seemed unperturbed by Yarrow's confusion, and he simply repeated his statement: "Congratulations on your happy day," he signed with a wink. "I understand from B'nick that nobody here took the trouble to learn your tongue?"

She nodded, still a little dumbfounded. "Pardon me -- Harper Piemur? -- but I'm wondering how you know it," she signed, cocking her head to emphasize.

He grinned and pointed toward the drumtower. "I was once apprentice drummer," he signed, "and well, now -- I need to find out what I can and convey it in as much secret as possible sometimes. Harper's discretion," he signed.

_Oh, that's it. He's like my parents,_ she thought and heard a chuckle from Visigoth. She took a deep breath. "You got my message, then?" she signed.

Piemur nodded emphatically.

Yarrow felt a thrill. _Did you know my parents then, _she wondered. _Please tell me about them..._ She'd been getting antsy ever since she sent out that message, and the fact that Petia and Hannin had been watching her like a wild feline stalking prey didn't help matters at all. And all they wanted to talk about was this stupid wedding -- she didn't want any part in it!

"Listen," Piemur signed intently, "I know this isn't likely what you wanted -- I got the report from Undebran via the Masterharper. I heard what had to happen. If it's at all possible, I'll help you with that part, because I know about unwanted marriages..." He looked briefly over to where a lovely lady stood talking with a dark-haired youngster that could only be Piemur's. They didn't seem unhappy; she wasn't sure at all what he meant. At least this Harper seemed to be looser in practice than Undebran had been, or even her parents.

Just as it seemed like he was going to tell Yarrow something important, though, Hannin suddenly appeared, placing a thick hand on her shoulder. The Lord Holder didn't squeeze or anything, it was just _there_. He bowed to Piemur and seemed to say something, but she couldn't read his lips. _It's impolite to speak without signing, when you know someone deaf is around,_ Yarrow recalled her father saying once, but the Southerners seemed to not know this -- or care.

Then he turned to Yarrow and the pressure on her shoulder increased ever so slightly. "YOU -- NEED -- TO -- GET -- READY," he said slowly, and she felt a flash of annoyance. "DO -- YOU -- UN-DER-STAND?"

Yarrow nodded curtly. She wrenched herself back to Piemur to say a polite farewell, but he was gone. _So maybe he isn't as friendly as I thought... then again, if I could get away from Hannin as fast as possible I would._

* * *

She was stalling as best she could. The fact that the Harper Hall -- the Masterharper himself! -- had gotten her message was thrilling. Yarrow felt very jumpy, and she wished she could have had more time to talk with Piemur, friendly or no -- he actually knew sign language. She'd missed being able to talk with Undebran.

The ladies were as Mink called it "twittering." They ran about, seeming to be doing something very important all the time, but really Yarrow could tell they weren't doing a thing.

Petia, on the other hand, was irritable. "We've been snubbed by the Weyrs!" she was shouting. Yarrow could feel the vibration of her anger, it was so intense. "Imagine, they sent that _Greenrider _here -- as what, an emissary?"

"Well, he did mention that Zarath was close to Flight and that half the Weyr was ill," one of the maids said and received a cuff.

"That's such a lie, and you know it!" the Lady Holder stormed.

Petia had been determined that she was going to wait till the -- well, the important people -- came. B'nick had told her, though, that wasn't going to happen. "They'll send the bare minimum, just to be polite," he'd signed earlier, "and that's it. K'van isn't coming any more than F'lar!" Yarrow couldn't blame him.

Suddenly the door opened and in walked the dark-haired, pretty lady Piemur had seemingly come with. She curtsied politely to Petia, and -- making sure to sign -- she said aloud, "I've yet to pay my respects to the bride-to-be." Petia sniffed a bit but she backed off, nodding, with narrowed eyes at Yarrow.

Yarrow curtsied to the lady.

"My name is Jancis," she signed. "I'm a Master Smith."

"Yarrow, and I'm nothing."

At this point, Jancis took both Yarrow's hands in hers and Yarrow saw a look of understanding in her eyes. "You are _not _a nothing," she said quietly but emphatically to Yarrow, and squeezed her hands. "I have a message from Piemur, my husband. He says to look for people with the simplest jobs at the Hold, and study them," she signed. "You see? You're important... you can get us information..."

Yarrow made a chopping downward sign. "...Lord Toric's death, right?" she signed and the other woman nodded. "I just want to leave here..."

Jancis nodded again. "Don't you want to avenge your father's death?" she signed. "Piemur and I will be watching. Your firelizards have met his Farli by now; send them to us at Cove Hold if you have trouble." With that, she turned and left the room.

"What did she want?" Petia said as soon as the Craftswoman was gone. Yarrow simply shrugged.


	5. Chapter 5

She had a lovely dress for the wedding, but she hated it. The entire time Yarrow stood in front of everyone, she kept thinking about Piemur and Jancis. Would they be staying at Southern or nearby? She thought the two lived at Cove Hold, but had no idea. Yarrow cursed her parents the whole time she stood there, for bringing her to this sweltering backwater, where everyone thought her an idiot just because she couldn't hear them, and where she had to marry a man she definitely didn't want.

_Dragons mate others regardless of how they may feel about a certain one,_ she sensed from Visigoth and groaned inwardly.

_Listen, I know you don't have the same feelings, but -- _Yarrow paused a moment. Hannin was babbling about something with regard to marriage. _-- How do Weyrmates feel when Flight happens?_ It was something she'd never considered before.

She got a chuckle for her pains. _It's really something new Weyrfolk worry about,_ B'nick put in. _The most pressure is on Weyrleaders and Wingleaders, to say nothing about Goldriders. I believe they have much the same worries you do... not to fear, I doubt he bites!_ At which point, she caught a sense of "private joke" that she had often had with the pair, but they had never explained it to her.

She looked around the inner hallway for some way out. _I wish I could run like Menolly did,_ she thought, but that was not possible, she quickly saw. Regardless that all the Weyrleaders had been invited to the wedding, and none had come, the hall was yet full with all of Southern's holders. _They probably didn't dare say no, or else Petia and Hannin bribed them._ She knew Hannin ruled with an iron fist, constantly raising tarrifs and not paying the Weyr much of what he got. He never thought she was paying attention, or that she understood what was going on, when she copied his words into the log book, but she could figure it out. Hannin kept his Hold looking lovely, hoarding away food like a starving rat...

Yarrow blinked. The first part of the puzzle was there, then, and she'd never thought of it. Sure, the Lord Holder of Southern acted like no Lord Holder she'd ever heard of, but this one in fact was acting like a poor man, or someone during a time of plague. Yarrow had read about people acting like Hannin during Moreta's time and other plagues before and after the great woman.

_Hannin isn't a Lord Holder by birth!_ she thought.

_We think so too, but what proof do you have? _asked B'nick. _T'gellan's been trying to scout that out for a long time._

Quickly, Yarrow explained her thoughts on the matter. _...and no young lord would be living in such circumstances as to need to hoard food, not in this Pass._

She was brought back to reality by a sharp twist of her left arm. Petia had yanked it, hard.

"SAY -- 'I -- DO!'" the thin woman mouthed at her, an angry look on her face. She shook the girl. "SAY IT!"

Yarrow pursed her lips angrily.

_We'll help you,_ B'nick sent, _but this needs to happen._

Yarrow groaned and nodded.

She felt tears in her eyes as Hannin the false Lord Holder finished the ceremony, and everyone applauded politely. People began to come to her, their eyes wide and somber as they congratulated the new wife of the heir to the Hold.

_Take heart,_ B'nick sent, _since he isn''t the real Lord of this Hold, this marriage can be declared illegal..._

_...as soon as you find out evidence of why he killed Toric,_ Yarrow finished in her thoughts. _That's all you want me for, isn't it?_

Bitterly, she faced her new people.


	6. Chapter 6

Yarrow and Mink faced each other an hour later, when they'd been practically shoved into his rooms. Bigger than Yarrow's room had been – though just about anything would be – Yarrow found that all of her things had already been moved into them. Including the drum. _So, they're still too afraid of the Riders to take that, even now that I'm "mated," _she thought, pursing her lips.

Mink shifted uncomfortably. "I kind of was told what we're supposed to do," he signed clumsily to her, indicating the bed, and reminding Yarrow of Petia's constant patting of her hips. She winced. "Yeah, I agree – gross," he signaled. "I could, um, fake it, but you know Hannin said they'll check the sheets."

Yarrow's eyes widened. _That's disgusting! Barbaric! What is this – Lessa's Turn? _She signed slowly for his sake that she hadn't gotten the same amount of information he had at all. Something about children, and her hips – she emphatically thrust one out at him. But... that was all.

Mink turned redder. "I guess we could – maybe – pretend to be too exhausted tonight," he motioned.

Some weddings she'd heard of had great feasts, Gather-like atmospheres. Yarrow had read about Oldtimer weddings where half a continent and all the Weyrs represented. Jugglers, singers, Traders... everyone! They lasted for days sometimes. But this one – Yarrow and Mink had basically been thrown at one another and then shoved into a room to – do whatever mates were supposed to do.

_You are supposed to – _mate, Visigoth sent amusedly, a twinkle in the vibration. Yarrow also caught some laughing from B'nick.

That only made her more irritable. _At least you know what to do! They didn't tell me at all. And he barely seems to know._

_Well, then cuddle, _sent B'nick. _Go along with his pretense – for now._

Yarrow found that she had at least a small amount more freedom because she'd married the heir. She wasn't outwardly criticized or condemned for practicing her drum. Instead she could do it almost whenever she wanted... in a way. Petia kept "finding" other things for her to do.

Like sitting amidst the other "ladies" of the Hold while they did hours of needlework and chattering about the silliest things.

"...did you know, Ber'dra's rumored to be pregnant? _Again?_ I think they're trying to populate the Weyr all by themselves! Not that F'lessan and _his _mate are ever liable to do more than the one. You know about Greens..." That was Edia, the long-nosed girl who was daughter of the cook.

"Hush, we've a friend of Dragonriders among us, you know," remarked Delia, one of the upper servants.

Yarrow looked around the group: high-up servants, daughters of high-up servants. _Really?_ She was pretty sure that this was not the way it was supposed to be; servants weren't supposed to be drudge-worthy but they didn't get this much time off at Harper Hall, she knew. Petia wanted people to sit with her, to make her feel important, clearly. But she didn't pay any attention to them, clearly thinking them beneath her. She was concentrating on her needlework intently.

Yarrow looked at hers and frowned at the messy stitches. _I'd rather be drumming,_she thought and yawned involuntarily.

Instantly there was a hand on her shoulder, and she looked up into Petia's overly-concerned face. "You – clearly – had a long night," she said loud enough to be heard on the coast; Yarrow could tell by the wideness of her mouth. She was putting on a display. "I think we should let you go rest." Yarrow could see amused and knowing looks on the faces of those around her, as she nodded, playing along, and got up to head to her new rooms.

Drumming. Drumming. Hours later, she was interrupted by Petia again, who looked much more stern now that they were alone. "I know your game," she said. "Get nervous? And I suppose Mink wouldn't do anything. Well, his sire will take care of that! Tomorrow you'll be so sore you'll beg for a month left alone." With that cryptic remark, she left the room.

Yarrow picked up her drum and went outside after that. She was glad that now at least she could. As soon as she left the Hold, she headed a little westward – not too far from the Hold and not too close either, there was a little cove that nobody had used in Turns. It was a pretty place, too, she'd always thought; a gigantic bell sat there, that she could sense sometimes when the wind was up, but nobody ever said just why it was there. Yarrow just liked the location because it was good for practicing her drum. She could occasionally see the sails of the fishermen's broken-down craft, or the dolphins jumping about in the water a ways off.

She went through the regulation warmup beats Undabran had taught her before he went away. Yarrow missed the grouchy Harper, who'd at least known how to communicate with her properly, in a way few others she'd ever known could. If it was so hard to learn signs, she'd figured, then nobody would do it. But clearly, there was something else to it. Maybe they just didn't want to know. She turned her thoughts back to her practice.

By evening, her fingers were sore but she was getting beats down much better than before. _Sometime, I'll even be able to drum my way out of here_, she thought wistfully. She'd actually felt a little important the one time she'd been in a drum tower. _Maybe_, she thought, looking over at the huge bell, _that was used for something important once too_.

Suddenly she was alerted to a little flash not far away, and hurried out of her cove. So far, Yarrow's hiding place hadn't been discovered – sure enough though, there was little Rush who'd doubtless been sent to find her, because he headed right in the girl's direction as soon as he caught sight of her. She sighed inwardly, though at least he was a nicer messenger than a lot of those Mink or his detestable parents could summon.

They were heading back to the Hold, when Rush dug claws into Yarrow's shoulder, making her shriek n pain. She whirled, seeing someone coming toward her: it was a young man with a small satchel over his shoulder, one she didn't know. Yarrow started to run, but he was faster. He grabbed her by the arm and started yelling something at her; she could feel his breath coming erratically and sense the vibrations of it. She could also sense Rush's fright, and knew he was battering the man with his small wings and claws. _Good Rush!_

The man whirled her around and made her face him. Like Hannin would do, he started that overly-urgent enunciation. "You – are – far – out – from – home – girl."

_I know that_, she thought with irritation. She made a face at him and he squeezed her arm harder.

"You – will – come – with – me – till – you – can – say – where – you – belong," he continued, and then he spotted the drum. "Harper?" He shook her by the shoulders. "Are – you – a – Harper?"

Yarrow's heart beat a little faster.


	7. Chapter 7

Brevis was one of Toric's younger get, but he had also been one of the old Lord Holder's favorites. He'd been born right between Droska and the two sets of twins, namely Deema and Ormala and Cora and Munt, the latter of who had died not long after being born leaving Cora to grow up not quite right in the head. Cora had a passion for setting things on fire, and she insisted from the age of six Turns that she could see ghosts. But Brevis had a good head on his shoulders, Toric's passion for organization, and more importantly he was one of the more intelligent of the large brood the man had. So when he was only a teen Brevis was given one of the choicer spots for his minor Holding, out on Ierne Island. Toric even gave Brevis one of the Healer apprentices he'd lured down from the north, as a Hold-warming present.

Yarrow goggled at the sight of the neat, well-organized Hold she now came to, dragged by a young man with a cautious look in his eye, who was still being battered at by the angry Rush. _If I send him away – Rush would listen to me, but – do I want him to know where I am?_ That was of course the bigger question. This place was the farthest she'd gone on her own in a long while, and the deaf girl wasn't so sure she didn't like at least that fact. She hadn't been harmed here – yet. _Can they tan the hide of a wife of the Hold heir? _She wondered. Petia certainly would think of it, and Yarrow'd had enough beatings from that woman for a lifetime.

Her captor turned her to face him again, as she stood staring at the lovely trees that bulged with fruit, the tidy waterway along the coast just a few feet away where a chattering group of women and young ones sat working at a late catch, cutting fish and repairing nets. They were laughing and seemed happy by their actions, not pressed or snooty with one another like the people at Southern were. A few children ran past, playing, not dirty but in clean tunics. "This – is – the – home – of – a – Lord – Harper," he said in that slow way she'd always found annoying when people did it. "A – _Lord,- _do – you – un-der-stand?"

She nodded emphatically, wondering who this could be. Hannin too called himself Lord Holder, but there was nothing at Southern that reminded her of a Hold. That place was more like a collection of Holdless who'd just set up housekeeping in an abandoned home. Hannin and Petia had no more idea how to Hold than – well, than she really did. She just knew they weren't doing it correctly. She followed the man inside the wide door that had some gorgeous carvings of dragons on it. He was saluted by two guards.

Inside, a small boy ran up and the man gave him his baggage and some sort of message, at which the child cheerfully skipped off. She was gestured to a wide table in the main hall, and her captor was just starting in on "Stay – here. . . " when he was interrupted. A younger woman was shaking her head at him – and to Yarrow's surprise, she was using the speech of fingers as well as aloud!

". . . She isn't an idiot, Greagan, she just can't hear – anyone can see that much," she was saying. "I thought you fishmen were all trained to know hand signals these days."

Greagan shrugged and said something like, "not much – attention." The woman rolled her eyes and told him in no uncertain terms to leave Yarrow to her. Rush had, to Yarrow's consternation, disappeared.

"Now, then," said the woman when the fishman had disappeared, pulling a chair out and facing Yarrow directly. "You do understand me, don't you?" Yarrrow nodded. "And you're Harper, it seems; who else would have a drum. . ? Well anyway, I'm Miala, and this is Lord Brevis's Hold. You're on Ierne Island."

Brevis. Yarrow thought a minute, trying to figure back, and realized he was one of Lord Toric's get. She nodded that she understood, though she only half did. So some at least of the old lord's children had survived; that would be something worth knowing for those interested. She pulled a face, reminded again of how she'd been used by both Weyr and even Harper Hall.

Miala, mistaking the face for something else, scowled a little. "Now listen, girl, Lord Brevis is an honorable man, in his own way," she said a little sharply, her face tight.

Someone came up and touched the woman on the shoulder at that point, and both she and Yarrow looked up. "Thanks for your loyalty, though I don't know if our visitor is concerned about that," the young man remarked, a dry grin on his tanned face. He was handsome in a rugged sort of way, with a scar along his nose and the hands of a worker. But his bearing said he clearly owned the place in a much clearer manner than any of Hannin's bawling or Petia's peevishness could convey. "Have you considered hospitality for her?"

"No, m'lord, I was just – "

He raised a hand, interrupting her. "Go get some now. Klah, I believe, and at least something small. I won't have it spread about that my Hold is not hospitable." Miala raced off, and he took her place at the table by Yarrow. "Now, then. Miala's a good sort, once you know her, but she's a little impetuous. You must forgive her. I worry sometimes that she – came down here too soon, maybe." He sighed at this mysterius comment and didn't elaborate.

She wasn't sure what to make of Brevis. Something about him made her heart race, and she didn't understand that at all. It wasn't fear, since she was barely thinking of what would happen at Sourthern just then. He was fairly good at hand-speech, like Miala had been, and when she came back herself with a steaming cup and some rolls, he signed to Yarrow to eat up. She did so hungrily.

"Where are you from?" he asked as she finished. "You're well-bred enough not to lick fingers, but you don't wear fancy garb. Yet, you've a drum that's of fairly good make if I'm any judge. Miala, this is Harpercraft, isn't it, not just some Hold knockoff?" he said to the woman who'd remained hovering.

Miala nodded. Both of them were speaking both aloud and in sign, as Yarrow's parents used to do, and as she'd been brought up to think was polite when there was a non-hearing person in the room. "I don't know how you got it," she said to Yarrow, "but well, there's enough secrets of that sort around to fill a Hold. . . The important thing is, can you play it?" Yarrow nodded emphatically.

She was going to demonstrate when Brevis stopped her. "No," he said laying a gentle hand on her arm, "you don't need to prove yourself. Where did you come from? It would have to be somewhere nearby, and there aren't many Holdings. Not left, at any rate." He made a slight face.

Yarrow hesitated. She liked it at Brevis's Hold, where people actually talked to her, not at her. But – _There's duty to be done, not to – them – but Harper duty,_ she reminded herself. An uncomfortable fact it was. "Southern," she signed.

The two with her at the table exchanged surprised – and, if Yarrow was any judge – disgusted glances. "How did someone so proper come from there?" she caught Miala asking when the woman thought Yarrow couldn't see. "That place – ever since your father. . . ."

"Hush, she's watching," the young Lord Holder remarked in a casual manner, but his face was also tight. He cleared his throat and looked back at Yarrow. "And you'll be missed, won't you? Clearly. I can't think Petia and Hannin would have you as their Harper; they aren't smart enough to understand writing let alone finger-speech, those louses. Do you have family there, then?"

She thought a minute. She guessed she did, since she was technically wed. Reluctantly she nodded, though she didn't say who.

Brevis exhaled, shaking his head. "I could guess that you ran away from home, but Greagan told me – that's the man who brought you here, good man in his own way but not all that bright sometimes – he said he just 'found' you. Off on the shoreline. Well, I can't blame you from wanting a breather from those – people." He made another face. After a pause, he continued, "I really should return you, before I have _them _breathing down my neck. But – if you feel too caged-in there, you are welcome to come back any time you want. You have my word." He squeezed her shoulder. "Now, it's a bit late in the eve for even a short trip across the island, so you'll stay here the night. We can certainly find room for you. What's your name, anyway? My pardon, in the excitement I forgot to ask."

She spelled it out for him on her fingers: "Y-a-r-r-o-w."

He laughed at that. "Like the old plant from the Ancients' world? Beautiful. Your parents had a way with words, I see."

"They were Harpers," she signed.

"Ah," he said, nodding. "Makes sense now. I cannot believe the Masterharper would send someone so young down here, nor that you'd take a bribe from _them _to come." He exchanged glances with Miala again, another cryptic bit of information that was lost on Yarrow. But she knew she had to clear up one thing; her Harper loyalty demanded it.

"Masterharper Sebell didn't send me by myself," she signed to them both very emphatically. "I came with both my parents, who were stationed as Harpers at Southern Hold. My father died in shipwreck. My mother – well, she had a hard time living without him. . . " She started feeling tears at the thought of her parents being gone, tears she'd often shed in her rooms late at night when the drudgerly chores were done and Petia had stopped nagging. She wiped them away with the back of one hand, but quickly signed, "I was supposed to remain, but they're – they're gone. . . ."

"And you feel stuck, is that it?" Brevis said, his face soft and caring. He shook his head. "I imagine that can't be easy, living there. There is something you aren't telling me, but it doesn't matter." He sighed again. "I can't very well just steal you from the place – much as I might like to," he remarked with a wry grin. "But I say again, you can come here as often as you need – or want."

She didn't understand the sadness that came along with that statement. At least he'd gotten the message that her living condition wasn't – entirely – the Masterharper's fault.

Brevis insisted on escorting Yarrow back to the hold himself, along with the proper gifts due a Hold visit. "After all," he'd told her with a disgusted look on his face, "Hannin and Petia are my Lord Holders – if only in name." It was very clear to her that he didn't think they were suited to the place at all. He took the bare minimum of gifts for his visit, and that said more than his body language.

"THERE you are!" Petia scowled, when she came out to see them, after a dirty child ran inside through the weeds. "You're in for a clouting, girl – I don't care who you are, you deserve one."

Brevis was dismounting while she spoke. The tall man loomed over the stubby, skinny woman. "Greetings, _Lady _Petia," he said – and signed, rather pointedly, Yarrow thought with some satisfaction.

"And who are you – oh yes, cousin Brevis," said the self-styled Lady of the Hold in an offhand way. "It's been _so long._" Brevis missed the inferrence on that statement; he'd clearly not come to the wedding summons, but it wasn't lost on Yarrow. "Thank you so much for bringing her back," she continued, when he didn't take the hint. "Oh, and bringing gifts! So kind of you. . . " Later, when he was gone back to his Hold, Petia would spend hours complaining about how little there had been, and how she guessed well since it was just _Yarrow, _or "the invalid" as she was always calling her, she supposed it was the least he could bring himself to take out of his huge stock out of politeness. And then she'd go on about how all of Hannin's cousins were sooo snooty, just because they were Toric's 'real get,' and 'had a proper tie to the Hold,' despite the fact that none of them had stepped forward to claim it after the man died, because doubtless nobody wanted to be held under suspicion. . . .

For now, though, Petia was all fake politeness, the bare minimum of it, and Brevis was doing his best Yarrow saw to keep his own temper under control, as the woman didn't even invite him to dine with them or have a cup of klah. Instead, she made a big scene about how tired Yarrow must be, and how tired she herself was, took the young man's gifts and shooed Yarrow into the hold with another pinch to her arm.

When she came to Yarrow a little while later, she first gave the girl the first beating she'd had since she was wed, then made Yarrow pull up her skirts. "He's handsome enough," she signed to Yarrow with a sneer, "though believe me, if I catch anything amiss. . . ." Petia hit Yarrow again, to be sure her words came across, though the deaf girl barely understood her meaning.


	8. Chapter 8

Tointel woke Yarrow up with beating wings and little shrieks that vibrated painfully in her deaf ears. The little green's eyes were whirling red in anger, fear – she had no idea what, as she sat up abruptly. She stared right into a small face full of concern. Nisha was sitting on the mantlepiece looking equally upset, as was Mink's brown Rush, who was also hopping up and down till he saw her waken. At that point, he started zipping about the room.

_Let me up, little one; it's all right_, she thought firmly at her green, who did though he didn't look very happy to do so. As Yarrow sat up, gingerly, feeling aches and pains from the beating of only the day before, she noticed two things: Mink wasn't there, for one. She didn't remember him coming in, but she figured it was probably just that she'd been wrapped up in her own feelings. Yet, the young man rarely woke so early when he could – and it was barely dawn, she could tell by the half-light. The second thing she saw was the little gold firelizard, who was eyeing her with just as an upset look as the other three in the room. _What on Pern? Who are you?_

Firelizards never came near the hold of their own accord, and there were certainly no golds among the few who did live there. Yarrow wracked her own mind, but the little gold was giving as confused an image as the others: white light, dolphins jumping up and down in the water, fire in the sky. . . .

She was beginning to catch some of the panic the little ones were broadcasting, but – _If I wake the Hold now, I'll risk another beating. _It was that or her life, she had a feeling, and she didn't like that at all. Quickly she got herself in motion, ignoring as best she could the aches from yesterday. She threw on a tunic dress of green with blue under-lining, and a blue belt that had been a gift from her parents Turns back. But when she reached for her drum, in the usual place where she left it right by her bed, it was gone.

Yarrow's eyes narrowed. That had gone too far. Petia could do whatever she wanted to Yarrow herself, but that drum – yes, that was the last straw. She squeaked as Tointel landed abruptly on her shoulder, little claws digging in. _"Ow!" _But at least it brought her back to reality.

Now she could very faintly catch the vibrations of a – bell? _Where is there one big enough to be sensed like that. . . ._

And then, Yarrow realized where that bell had to be. It was the big bell down on the shore not far from the Hold, and someone was ringing it. She even grasped a very faint alarm sequence. But the other senses she was getting made no sense at all.

Fire in the air. _Fire? _The last time Yarrow remembered hearing of that sort of thing was several Turns back when a comet fell from the sky, devastating much of the coastal world. She pried Tointel's front claws from her shoulder, wincing, as she headed from the room that she refused to think of as "hers and Mink's". Again he broadcasted the vague pictures, and the other firelizards were following her she could tell, very upset.

The Hold was quiet, nobody seemed to have gotten the message save Yarrow herself. _Where is your master? _She thought at Rush but got little other than agitation. Maybe. . . .

They wanted her to leave the Hold, that much she was able to tell. And NOW. Danger signs were all over them, seeming to emanate from their every pore. _All right, all right_, Yarrow thought at the little ones who were doing their best to herd her, and she headed out toward the big doors. No watch-whers here, and the guards were lax enough – when they decided to be on duty. They seemed to care about their masters only as much as they had to. That's what Southern was like; either a bunch of scared, dimwitted Holders and servants, or a bunch of scoundrels with varying levels of intelligence. At the moment, Yarrow noticed, the guards didn't seem to want to play nice. They weren't at all visible to her as she went outside.

The dim light was brighter than it should have been, she noticed; a large bright golden-red light was appearing in the west. _West?_

That was when Yarrow understood. Piemur's Volcano. It was one of the few landmarks she'd learned of on Southern, one of those that everyone heard about. So, all right, it was erupting again. It did that t times, she knew.

The firelizards became more frantic, and suddenly the little gold was right in Yarrow's face. She broadcasted very clearly a building Yarrow remembered: Brevis's Hold, with all the happy people and a feeling of love and safety. In danger. At the same time, Yarrow caught from her own Hold's lizards more fire, like an image of the vanquished Red Star itself. Like the horrific and beautiful picture someone had made into a tapestry of Rider F'nor's flight and fall from the flaming menace. This was no ordinary eruption, she realized.

But where was Mink? Again she caught faintly the alarm bell from the coast, and she rubbed her eyes, trying to decide what to do. The volcano was far enough away from her larger Hold to not touch that, but what about Brevis's place?

_Visigoth? _She thought tentatively, nervous about rousing the big dragon or his rider at this hour. But she got an instant response.

_Are you safe? You need to be safe._

Yarrow blinked. _What do you mean?_

_He means what he says, _B'nick sent clearly. _Where are you?_

Briefly, she sent to him what had gotten her out of bed. . . _And there's a bell. . . ._

Thad provoked little reaction, and she wasn't sure why. _What's going on?_

_Piemur's Volcano is erupting, the largest one that has happened so far, young one. _

_But – _Surely it was far enough away from most of Southern that it wouldn't hurt anybody, she thought. _But Ierne is in the west, and that's where Brevis is._

All the while she was having this internal discussion, Yarrow was heading for the coastline and the only route she could remember to Ierne. The firelizards were zooming around her agitatedly, sending more and more intense views of the danger.

_Brevis sent his gold to you? _That abrupt message was from B'nick.

_I do not know; does he have one? _

_Yes; her name is Barsha. She used to belong to Lord Toric_, was the dry response. And cryptic.

But. . . .

As she reached the fellis bushes near the little stream that she'd been heading for, Mink appeared, looking haggard and worried but not much the worse for wear. Rush went straight for him, whirling around the young man's head and fluttering anxiously as his master tried to soothe him. "Not – good – goings on," he signed to her.

"_Volcano, they say," Yarrow signed back, indicating the firelizards. "And. . . " She nodded toward the little gold who'd come for her._

Mink goggled at that. He'd obviously never seen a gold firelizard before. "She's beautiful!"

"_According to B'nick, she belongs to Lord Brevis," Yarrow signed. Barsha? Is your name Barsha?_

That provoked an instant response. The little gold stopped her fluttering about and landed on Yarrow's shoulder, and to Yarrow's surprise her own two allowed it. They were usually so possessive.

"I guess she is, then," Mink said with obvious amusement. His face darkened again. "Yarrow, I'm leaving the Hold. That's what I was doing out here. Apparently I have bad timing."

They both looked westward. _Brevis? What's going to happen to Ierne?_

But it was another who answered. _We are saving those we can from the island, _this one sent to her. _I am F'lik, rider of Oth, and B'nik's Weyrmate. Lord Brevis is all right, B'nik wanted me to tell you._ The last was tinged with amusement.

Absently, Yarrow petted Barsha. "It does sound bad over there," she agreed with Mink. "Ha! And here none of our Hold seem to know." No alarms had come to the Hold, none to be heard at any rate. The drum-tower was used so infrequently. _How dare they? _It was another insult to add to the others of the day. What if there had been an emergency at _their _Hold? She wondered, though she already knew the answer to that. "I don't know why this one came or was sent," she signed to Mink, "but I'm coming with you if you really are leaving."

He shook his head. "You should stay -"

"And be beaten again?"

Mink sighed, looking downtrodden. "I'm sorry for that," he signed. "It isn't nearly enough but I am sorry. You don't deserve that, at least."

"She took my drum too!"

"No, she didn't," he signed, and reaching behind him handed it to her with a sheepish look. "I – I did. I – was going to sell it, pay my way somewhere, anywhere." His eyes pleaded with her to understand.

Yarrow frowned at him as she snatched the drum back, the last gift from her parents or anyone who'd truly cared for her. "You're as bad as they are!" she signed, scowling at him. "Did you steal from the Hold coffers too on your way out? Kill your parents?"

His face reddened. "I. . . ."

But the sky was getting dark just then, as dark as it had been bright, and suddenly the air seemed to be choking Yarrow. She could sense the fear of the firelizards around her and Mink, and she looked up to see a giant green dragon she didn't know. _I am Oth, little one. Visigoth says you can hear me. We have come to help you; get on!_

Feeling faint, Yarrow let herself be hauled up onto the dragon's back along with her erstwhile husband, who was coughing. The brisk cold of _between _hit her like a hammer then.

They came out in a medium-sized Weyr, which was being filled at that moment with people who looked very confused and upset. Barsha appeared for a second, cocked an eye at her and disappeared again – _looking for Brevis, _Yarrow thought.

She wasn't sure what else to do, where to go in this place, so she just went forward. Absently, Yarrow looked for others from Southern but didn't see anyone. "They aren't here," Mink signed to her appearing out of a crowd by one of the stairways. He didn't look particularly worried. "C'mon, let's at least get out of the masses."

Yarrow and Mink went up the stairs, she a little nervously Mink with more boldness. _Well, he is the scion o a 'Lord Holder', _she thought. Up here were smaller Weyr entrances to private rooms, their doors covered by thin cloths. Many had insect netting over them. She wasn't surprised at that. The heat of the day was rising as the sun did – or should, but the volcano had blotted that out for a bit yet again. She sighed; another day in Southern.

"Hey, what are you doing?" she caught Mink's arm as he headed toward one of the rooms that was for the moment unguarded. "You aren't going to steal – from _dragonriders_?"

He shrugged, his face hard. "They probably don't need half the stuff they have, you know; that's what Hannin always said," he signed to her. "So why not? While they're gone, and there's so much chaos?"

This was not a side of Mink that Yarrow liked seeing. "No," she signed emphatically. "Come on. We are NOT going to steal from good people, who don't deserve it! Come to think of it, nobody is going to steal from ANYONE!"

"What's this about theft?" Brevis signed, appearing from the shadows as they came down the stairs, Yarrow tugging Mink along.

She colored. ". . . Nothing," she signed to the handsome young man. Barsha was seated comfortably on his left shoulder, her tail wrapped possessively around his neck. But he eyed Mink suspiciously.

"I know you from somewhere," he said slowly, not bothering to sign. There was a very odd electric charge between them just then that she could practically touch.


	9. Chapter 9

Yarrow stood silent, watching the two men watch one another. _What to do, _she wondered – _if anything? _

The moment was broken open again by the arrival of a brownrider, who was bounding up the stone stairs two at a time. His silvery-black hair was disheveled, and he himself breathed heavily; she could see it in his face. "What's doing?" he asked, cheerfully. "I can't blame you folk wanting to be out of the crowds – ah, greetings Holder Brevis." He bowed, recognizing the handsome man at last. "And who is this with you?"

Brevis returned the greeting. "This is my young lord Mink and Lady Yarrow, of Southern," he said.

At mention of her name, Yarrow saw the dragonrider's eyebrow go up just a hair – and then his face went blankly cheerful again. She noted that the other two hadn't seen it. _B'nick? Does every dragonrider on Pern know something about me? _She sent and felt a chuckle.

_I am F'lessan, rider of Golanth, _the rider sent to her. He grinned. _Afraid I don't know sign language, but I've been _told _you hear us?_ And by "us" he clearly meant dragons, because she could sense a distant rumble as well.

Yarrow blinked, coloring. F'lessan had said it like she was supposed to know him – but for the life of her, she didn't. Harper Hall taught the regulation Harper teaching ballads, certainly, but Yarrow herself had had a difficult time with them due to her disability. She'd had to sit close to the Harper (which wasn't always possible). The rest of her learning she'd gotten from her parents when they had the time to do so, and even old Undabran down at Southern hadn't been able to make what he taught stick. More to the point, the folk at that hold hadn't been too inclined for there even to be need for Harper learnings.

So, she just nodded. _Hello, Dragonrider – and Dragon, _she sent back. Then she saw hold colorings on him – ones she didn't know at all either.

At this point Brevis jumped in. "Dragonrider F'lessan is the rider/holder at Honshu, it's in the north," he signed to her, as he said it aloud.

Mink was just staring during the entire conversation. "Honshu? My da said the area's uninhabitable!" he finally exclaimed.

Flessan burst out laughing. Gray eyes sparkled merrily at her. "No, it isn't. You might find it so, but dragons and their riders tend to like different kinds of habitation than regular people!" He looked over at Yarrow. "My pardon, can you read lips?"

She nodded. _I can, so don't worry about it,_ she sent to the handsome man. It was clear he'd seen some hard times; there was a very slight limp. But he didn't seem too concerned – with that or anything, actually.

"_I think we'd best be going," she signed to Mink, who frowned, but he had no good reason for staying up there, she knew, with relief. Yarrow smiled at Brevis, nodded to him and headed down the stairs again. She did her best to ignore the chuckles she was sensing from the couple dragons she knew._

The people at Southern were half in the weyr, Yarrow found. She didn't see Hannin but Petia found her fairly soon after her own arrival. "There you are!" the woman scowled at her. It was fairly plain that the Lady of Southern hadn't expected or even wanted Yarrow to survive the disaster. Petia herself was very dusty and dirty, her hair all dishveled, and the blanket she'd thrown about her clearly wasn't covering her entirely. Her expression grew even more snarly as she looked Yarrow up and down and found the girl fully dressed. "And what were you doing out of bed at this hour? Keeping a tryst, no doubt! I told you to stay away from that cousin of ours, you harlot!" Yarrow knew she'd have slapped her if they'd been alone.

But here – _for once, you can't touch me, and it's killing you_, she thought, her own lip curling. Irony, that's what it was. "Greetings, _Lady Holder_, " she signed, ignoring the comment. "I was taking a walk when this terrible disaster occurred. It's a good thing some dragonriders were doing a sweep of the area, isn't it?"

_A walk. I wish it was just a walk, _she thought, _like a regular person could do – in a regular Hold._

Petia's scowl deepened, probably made worse by her own knowledge she could do nothing. She was like that; she held grudges.

_B'nick? How bad is the damage?_ She sent, as she walked away from the Lady of Southern. Yarrow could feel the woman's eyes boring into the back of her head. _she's currently gushing at F'lessan, _B'nick sent amusedly. _Typical, _sent Yarrow. _But how bad is the damage?_

It was apparently bad. He didn't say much other than that in reply; he sounded hurried. She wandered around, trying to find some way to make herself useful.

Yarrow found the kitchens of the weyr filled, but she signaled to the lady who seemed in charge there that she'd like to help. The woman only gave Yarrow a bit of a double-take when she saw Yarrow couldn't speak, before she set her to preparing klah. Tointel came in and sat on a ledge nearby, watching her protectively, with a lot of pictures of people running around in other parts of the large compound, and dragons – lots of dragons. She had to laugh; neither of them had seen more than one dragon at a time, ever, not even back at Harper Hall.

Someone tapped her on the shoulder after awhile, just as her back was starting to get sore from grinding. Yarrow looked up briefly and squeaked excitement, throwing her arms around B'nick. _You're here! You're here! _She sent, unable to conceal tears.

The greenrider squeezed her tight. _So I am – are you all right? _He sent worriedly, a sentiment echoed by his dragon. _F'lik didn't mention you'd been injured..._

She pulled away a little, wiping her nose on her sleeve. _No, no – I'm just – tired, it's a lot to handle_, she dissembled. _I don't even know where we are, and Petia's here, and Mink is – I hope he's staying out of trouble, but..._

_Yes, we know she's at the weyr. This is Southern Weyr, _he sent Yarrow dryly, _not that you'd have been told much about it. We know Hannin never even took petitions at the few Gathers he ever held. I'd have you meet K'van and Adrea, your Weyrleaders, but they're both busy with an emergency meeting just now. _He sat down next to her. Someone immediately came up to him with some klah, and whisked away the grindings Yarrow had worked on, spending a few minutes saying something too rapid for Yarrow to read her lips. _This is Darba, in charge of the Weyr proper here, _he sent to Yarrow. _And she says sit for a little and eat something; you've worked your tailbone off, apparently! _With that, Yarrow found a cup being forced into her hands and a couple rolls put down before her, by a stout woman who waved off her own bow in greeting and thanks. She barely noticed the departure of her friend, she was so hungry and tired.

It was only later on, after Yarrow'd been working in the kitchens for several more hours, that she realized neither B'nick nor Petia had mentioned Hannin being at the weyr with them.


	10. Chapter 10

A young weyrling dashed up to Yarrow. He was breathing hard. "F'lessan told – me – uh – you read lips?" She nodded and he continued hurriedly. "Uh, you're to come with me, Lady Holder – um, uh I guess I'm doing this wrong, sorry Lady Holder. . . ."

She smiled at him consolingly. "I think you have the wrong person, actually," she signed and when he didn't seem to understand she just pointed to herself and shook her head for emphasis. But he seemed to take that as her just not wanting to go with him.

"Please, Milady! You're, uh – requested. It's like a meeting."

_Why would I be called to a meeting? _She wondered, bemused.

Yarrow wasn't expecting any reply, but instantly got one from Visigoth. _You and Mink are the new Lady and Lord of Southern, as of the death of Hannin._

Yarrow paled. _No. . . _she moaned inwardly, sinking down on the stones.

The boy with her seemed to understand at last that she hadn't known, and he tentatively reached out and squeezed her hand. She looked up at him. He was trying to look comforting. "It's considered a good thing, Lady," he said. "It's good."

_Oh, I wish you could understand how _not _good it is,_she thought. _I'll never get away from there now. . . _She could see a lifetime of having all those slovenly, horrid people at the hold insisting she was the stupid, improper one. Of Petia goading her forever, with that ridiculous son of hers allowing it. Of being forced to have his children, however that happened. She felt sick.

_It will be all right,_ Visigoth sent her, but even he sounded doubtful.

_You promised I wouldn't be there forever!_

_I did, _B'nick sent her sadly. _I'm sorry; we didn't foresee this happening._

_I will not – I refuse to go!_

_You have to. _It was quietly sent, but firm. He was obviously upset about this turn of events. At the moment, Yarrow didn't care.

She looked again at the boy, and stood up, taking a deep breath to steel herself. _I will be gone as soon as I can go, I promise you that, _she sent and blocked out anything that might be coming to her.

Yarrow and the boy went down a flight, up another one across the Bowl of the Weyr, and down a winding hallway to a fair-sized room. As she steadied herself on the stone wall outside, she felt the vibration she'd learned meant someone was yelling. _Petia probably, big surprise._

She lifted her head and went inside. Petia was fairly purple in the face with anger, as she turned to see Yarrow enter. Mink was sitting very quietly beside her, looking like he was trying to will a hole into the floor. "Wonderful!" she yelled. "You are going to put THAT in charge in MY Hold?"

Yarrow could tell these were – almost – all Lord and Lady Holders, by the shoulder knots. Unlike Petia, they all seemed to be well-bred; every one of them stood and nodded heads in her direction, which made her feel both nervous and better at the same time. She wondered who the small fiery-looking older woman was who had clearly been arguing with the irritating woman as well.

The younger of the Lords, a tall man with sandy-brown hair brushed back, came over to her and bowed. "I am Lord Haligon of Fort Hold, Milady," he said formally, looking her right in the eye. "Seated by me is Lord Jaxom of Ruatha with his wife Lady Sharra, and with them is Larad of Telgar, Toronas of Benden, and on the other side of the table are F'lessan and Tai of Honshu Weyrhold, and F'lar and Lessa of Benden Weyr."

Yarrow nodded her thanks to him and he seemed to find that suitable. The young Lord seemed to have some sort of seniority there – _but isn't Ruatha first? _She thought confused, after wracking her brain as to why he might be taking charge, and received an inner chuckle from Visigoth. Yarrow was too flustered to ignore it. Her heart pounded as Lord Haligon guided her to a seat, next to Mink unfortunately. _Well, I'll just have to make the best of it, _she thought and took another deep breath.

When everyone was seated again, Haligon started speaking. "This is not your normal Council of Lords," he said slowly. Yarrow focused her attention on him so she could read his lips well enough. "We don't often include Weyrleaders, you see." He harumphed a little as he nodded toward the dragonriders. "This is, however, an unusual circumstance. Lord Hannin wasn't exactly made lord of Southern in regular circumstances, either. I know there was a fair amount of contention about it – " he stopped for a second, and looked like he was listening to something but was feeling a little impatient. "Lady Petia, would you be so good as to repeat that for the sake of Lady Yarrow?"

Yarrow looked at Petia expectantly, and had the pleasure of the other lady looking flustered. "_Certainly, _Lord Haligon," she said staring straight at the girl. Her eyes narrowed. "I was simply informing the Lord of Fort here that upon the untimely death of Lord Toric, my deceased Lord and I were the only cousins willing to take on the huge responsibility of holding at Southern! More to the point, I should now add that there is really _no _reason for dragonriders to be here – interfering in Hold business – when no matter what was thought when Hannin took Hold, he _did take Hold._ My cousin never stood for such practices and neither will I -" she whirled around at something, looking more furious.

Weyrwoman – Lessa, Yarrow remembered – was saying, ". . . he had to sometimes, when he was stepping outside his own bounds, as you must be well aware – since you were so close after all." _She must be quite a Weyrwoman,_ Yarrow thought. "No, I'm not worried, Hannin; Yarrow's looking right at me, she's smart enough," she said. Her eyes were sparkling with pep, as her father used to call it. Yarrow had never met a Weyrwoman before and wondered if they were all like that. "Now, Lady Yarrow, the contention is this; Lord Holders are wondering if Hannin was after all a legitimate lord – you _will be quiet, Lady Petia!_ – and so therefore if Lord Mink and yourself have the right to take Hold after him." She cocked her head as if waiting.

_It's a valid enough question, _Yarrow realized with some irony. She sighed and nodded to Lessa that she understood. _Um, can you hear me, Weyrlady?_ She sent nervously to the slight, intense woman, and was rewarded with a look of shock. Lessa blinked and nodded.

_Nobody told me, girl – not even that son of mine – my dragon Ramoth says you don't know, his name's F'lessan._

_Oh. Thank you. I've tried to help you as best I can, but. . . ._

_Don't worry. This really is an unusual Council. Actually, regardless of how Hannin came about it – _and here the Weyrwoman grimaced as if she was thinking of something unpleasant. Yarrow noticed Lord Jaxom had a similar look on his face, and even Haligon looked uncomfortable. She suddenly realized that Lessa was saying some things aloud at the same time as she was sending her thoughts to the girl _-no matter how he did, well normally this would be where you and Mink would just take Hold as his heirs, and we dragonfolk would not be present at all. But. . . there was a time in the past – or two – when something close to this happened. It's rather – bad – for the world to have anything like it again._

Yarrow blinked. "Yes, we just wanted to clear a few things up, my dear," F'lar was saying aloud to her. She nodded dumbly. "Haligon, you mentioned something about lost records surfacing?"

She looked over at the lord of Fort again. He nodded. "Absolutely," he said. "I received these today, actually – Lady Petia, Lady Yarrow might like to know that?"

Petia was turning purple again. _I could take this all day, _Yarrow thought trying not to burst out laughing as she looked at the older woman. Petia's teeth were clenched as she said, "I _said, _there is no way you could have gotten hold legitimately of records from Southern. . . ."

_Your friend B'nick was doing rescuing over there today, _Lessa informed Yarrow. _He found some interesting documents while – looking for survivors._

Yarrow winced. _I should have been able to find those, whatever they were! You – Milady Dragonrider, um you might not be aware but my parents were sent to Southern to find. . . ._

_Relax, we know, _the weyrwoman sent her. _He actually didn't find a thing; we just wanted to have her on her toes._

_Good – um, timing? _She thought, and received a chuckle.

Haligon was speaking again. "Well, you see, they were in the hands of your dying Lord when he was found in the rubble," he said. "Now, B'nick was determined that they get to us; they were clearly Holder business." He nodded toward the dragonriders. "We owe you folk so much. . . yes, Petia, we do, despite what your 'cousin' thought." He cleared his throat again. "Now, it appears that you and Hannin came to Southern Continent six years ago, via a craft that Lord Toric sent out toward the Eastern Ring Islands – we can't actually charge him with a crime, since he isn't here, but you see the horrible implication. . . ."

Yarrow had the satisfaction of turning, shocked, to Petia, and seeing the woman pale. _If that isn't true, then –?_

_It's been a suspicion for quite a bit, my dear, _Lessa sent. _Before he died, Lord Toric was known to be trying to find the Eastern Ring Islands as a source of new workers. He never liked the idea of dragonriders settling on the Southern Continent, never really liked the idea of AIVAS and all the new technology. You were at least taught what the Abominators are?_

_Yes. _Yarrow knew that one. It was hard to grow up on Pern – anywhere on Pern, really – without knowing of those horrible people. _But – even if Hannin and Petia came from there, it doesn't mean that they killed Lord Toric. I mean, why would they kill someone who helped them?_

She looked at Lessa, whose eyes were sparkling, as she nodded slightly. _You really are the daughter of Harpers._

She looked back at Petia, who was still pale. "All right, all right," the woman stammered, not sure whether she need look at Yarrow or not. _I really like this; you haven't been made to look my way when talking before. _"I admit; we were brought over by Toric. But – he _is _our cousin! I'm not making it up," she said. "Mink, please believe me." That was one word Yarrow would never have thought she'd see from the self-styled Lady of Southern.

Mink looked up at his mother, a little uncertain. Then he looked over at Yarrow. "I don't really want to be Lord Holder anyway," he signed and said, grimacing. She nodded. _I know, I know what you wanted to be one day._

_It's unfortunately impossible now, at least for the moment, _a male voice came into Yarrow's head and she stared around the table, looking for the source, found Lord Jaxom's eyes twinkling at her. "I know what it's like to want to be two things at once," he remarked, casually. "When I Impressed Ruth – well, that came out all right." He leaned forward. "My point is, Lord Mink, in this age, you can be a few things at once." He grinned at Yarrow. "Now, though, since we have to have a legitimate ruler of Southern and Toric's heir isn't here – where is Lord Brevis anyway?" he remarked, looking around. Yarrow did too and found everyone shaking heads. She saw Jaxom sigh. "Lord Mink – you do realize that he'd have seniority and better validity to the claim if he were present."

Yarrow saw Mink nod, looking uncomfortable again. "He can have it if he wants – no, Mother, he really can. I – really don't want this! And – I want to have stuff clear anyway. NO, Mother, I do. We weren't the only ones to come here to Southern." He ticked off on his fingers, while still looking at Yarrow. "There was Stine of Boll, I think, he used to be a Healer apprentice, and there was um, Potch from Fort Hold – I'm sorry, Lord Haligon, I really am – and there was someone named Bossil but I don't know who he was, he was kind of quiet and disappeared not long after he got here. . . and Stine who Cousin Toric had as a bodyguard for awhile before he and Potch went to work for Lord Brevis, and someone named Jorga who worked at our little place for awhile and then she was working at Southern really recently. . . ."

Yarrow, shocked, looked around the table and saw people nodding grimly. She saw Petia's face had a pinched, anxious look to it. _Jorga? Who works in the kitchens and makes that horrible stew? _She thought, feeling ill.

"_Thank you, Lord Mink," Haligon said. "Well, then. We need to prove the validity of your Holding, of course, but like I said we need someone at Southern, or what's left of it – I think that's very unlikely, and not a bit impolite, Petia." He nodded to Yarrow. "Considering recent events, my dear, I think it's fair we declare your marriage annulled, at least."_

Mink nudged Yarrow and made her look at him. "It actually wasn't legal, Milord," he said though he was still looking in her eyes. "She was forced into it. By _both _my parents!" He gulped. "I'm sorry," he said softly, and cleared his throat, saying a little louder, "I don't want to force you to continue there, whatever is decided in this format. I – didn't even want to live in the Islands! I was born there."

Yarrow looked over at Haligon who nodded. "That's a good point you bring up," he mentioned. "My father was always very firm on doing right by people – and there probably have been a number of youngsters born in the Eastern Ring who were innocent of what their parents did. We should probably look into that. For now, though – Lady Yarrow, is it true what he says?"

She bit her lip and nodded, looking down, then up at the lord of Fort. _I don't know how I'll find out what I need to if I leave, though, _she thought.

She looked uncertainly at Mink. "It's the only home she has now, though," he remarked. "You are welcome back there if you want – if I'm Lord, at least."

_Funny how you've changed attitude. Several hours ago, all you wanted to do was leave Southern. Then again, me too._


	11. Chapter 11

(My thanks to everyone who's read so far, and commented; I appreciate it! Just for reference points, the date is now in 2556, at 9.12.3, the same day Yarrow's marriage was dissolved... this chapter just ties up a couple loose ends with regards to that meeting. But it's useful for the story's movement...

Yarrow 11

"Petia, you are under arrest _again_, and sentenced to exile – in a different part of the Ring Islands," Lord Haligon said. "Weyrleaders, could we ask that a more consistent watch be made on that region, to prevent others from escaping?"

Yarrow looked over at the four – _five_? She wondered, since there was apparently also Lord Jaxom to think of who somehow had a dragon of his own – Weyrfolk, who nodded. Everyone looked grim, and she could understand why. The Abominators were a terrible force on Pern. "Definitely," F'lessan said, his mouth set. Flar was running a hand through his hair in frustration, and Lessa's eyes were blazing. "It's also something to keep junior weyrlings occupied while at their studies. We've left the Ring alone too much, clearly!"

_Maybe, maybe not, _Lessa sent to Yarrow who nodded. It was up for interpretation, really. _You yourself mentioned about those 'documents'; this issue wouldn't have been settled so cleanly if it hadn't happened in the way it did. _Again, there was that set to her lip that Yarrow didn't understand the reasoning for.

"Lord Haligon," Mink said, looking at Yarrow, "I will cooperate any way I can with this." He put up a hand as Petia seemed about to butt in again._ "Whatever _the decision."

Yarrow looked over at the Lords Holder gathered there. "Well, whatever else, this young man shows a great deal of the qualities we'd look for in a good Lord Holder," the man from – Benden, Yarrow thought – remarked. "Wouldn't you say, Larad?" The other man nodded. "Still doesn't excuse him though, I guess. What do you think, Haligon? Your father would have clapped them all in chains."

She looked at Haligon, who frowned. "No," he said slowly. "Father believed in what's right. He was swift in doling out punishment for what's _wrong, _but when something's more of a gray area – Da was less easy with those, and somewhat more careful. Lady Yarrow, for one thing do you honestly want to stay at Southern? Your parents were both Harpers; you'd be welcome back at the Harper Hall, I've no doubt. I knew your father; Porilan was a friend of mine. A very talented Harper."

Yarrow sighed. Part of her ached to go back to Harper Hall, to a place where she'd be understood better on so many levels, where she wouldn't be made fun of or looked down on for her disability again. The rest, though. . . .

_Duty._

That word hung in her mind like a gnawing canker she couldn't get rid of, and she also knew that she wouldn't feel right till she'd finished the task her parents had been sent there to do in first place, and that they'd in a way left her to complete. _And then there's Brevis. . . _she thought, flushing a little. Well, that was impossible.

"I'll stay," she signed to Mink, who was looking at her sadly. "That is, if I can?" She looked over at Lord Haligon, as Mink translated for her.

The lord of Fort seemed a little surprised, but he nodded. "Well, then, milords, since we can't seem to get hold of Toric's closer heir, I guess we have no choice but to name Mink the true Lord Holder of Southern," he said. He looked a little uncomfortable at that decision, but she saw him clear his throat. "Would somebody take our – prisoner – to a cell where she can be held till transport is arranged?"

Yarrow had the satisfaction of watching Petia be lugged away by two dragonriders, practically spitting blood. _Maybe Southern will be easier to take without you, _she thought.

Mink tapped her on her shoulder. "You didn't have to agree to stay," he signed, and for the first time she felt a little guilty not being able to tell him her reasons. But she brushed that off as best she could.

"You're going to need help building the place back up," she signed back to him.

_We will help too! _Several dragons and their riders sent her at once, not all of them present at the table.


	12. Chapter 12

The place was a wreck. Yarrow stared at the rubble that had taken out half the main building. _Is this what life down here is like, really? _She wondered. Good thing trees weren't near buildings here at all – not because of any Thread worries, but for more of a comfort reason; the fewer insects attracted the better.

Mink blew out his cheeks beside her, and tapped her on the shoulder. "You still want to stay?" he signed, a weary look on his face. The young man seemed to have aged five years in the couple days they'd been up at Monaco.

She nodded. "I am going to help," she signed back resolutely.

And it was hard work, too. The residents of Southern seemed fairly resigned to their fate, but then they were always like that. As Yarrow began assisting with clearing rubble and broken timber, she saw the same looks on the faces of the people that she'd seen for a few years. She wondered how Brevis was doing. Every so often Tointel or Nisha would appear for a bit, flashing pictures to their mistress of other parts of the Hold ruins, and sections of it that were still intact. Then they'd be gone again, their status update done for that time.

It was an earthquake or two that had followed the volcanic eruption, apparently. That was the official word Yarrow and Mink had received from the dragonriders. She'd only gotten it by proxy, as she was not allowed back into the meeting once her marriage to the young "Lord Holder" was dissolved. They'd looked a little uncomfortable about that, about having to tell her to leave, but then Yarrow figured the whole situation was an uncomfortable one. She hadn't minded then. Now – seeing the actual devastation was even more than the vaguenesses Mink had told her about.

She found him around sunset, over by the main hall which was mostly intact, though a large crack ran down the length of the floor now. Mink looked as tired as she felt. "Would you like some food?" he signed to her. His parents gone, there was little of the nervous young man who didn't want to be noticed. _Haligon was right, he'll make a good Holder whether he gets to keep Southern or not, _she thought, and nodded. It felt weird being able to just sit down to dinner at the Hold without worrying whether Petia or Hannin would appear any minute. She could still feel curious – and some disdainful – looks on her. News of her separation from Mink who they seemed to like well enough had obviously spread.

Klah, breadrolls, some fish, was dinner; at least some of their larder had survived the wreckage. The whole east end of the Hold was damaged but Yarrow supposed that made sense, and a few outer buildings were half in shambles. She couldn't imagine what Brevis's Hold looked like, if it was this bad here.

"I remember the meteor crash – it was before you came," Mink signed to her when she looked up at one point. "Everybody was out of sorts here. No problem; Southern's usually lucky. And there was that tsunami that also didn't touch us in – the Islands. . . though I was very young. This -" he waved a hand around indicating the Hold – "This, I'm not used to." He smiled wryly.

Yarrow nodded. "It's confusing," she signed back.

At that moment Borsa appeared out of nowhere, and landed right in the middle of the table. Yarrow suppressed a laugh. The little gold had obviously been informed that she must be noticed – as if that was hard here, where nobody had one! Borsa hopped right over to Mink and pointedly showed him one of her legs, on which was strapped a little note. He obligingly took it off, at which point she folded her wings back and sat on her haunches right there, waiting.

Mink read the note, reread it, then passed it over to Yarrow who read it herself. "Congratulations to the new Lord of Southern, may you have a good time with what you have," it said. She frowned; _odd choice of words,_ she thought.

Next day, at about noon, there was a commotion in the hold Yarrow couldn't ignore; all of a sudden people started running this way and that. Of course, they didn't bother to let her know what was going on. For some reason, the idiots at Southern – all except for Mink – seemed to hold her personally responsible not only for the eruption and subsequent earthquake but more importantly for the death of their former Lord Holder. They didn't seem to hold it against Mink at all, on the other hand. _These people wouldn't know their hand if it wasn't attached to them, _she thought in disgust, and put down the rocks she'd been carefully setting into place to be mortared, as the stonemason had joined the crowd heading in the direction of what remained of the great Hall.

There, she saw someone who looked remarkably like Brevis but who definitely wasn't; his hair was more sandy for one thing, and he looked older. And here she'd thought Brevis to be the elder of the old Lord's sons. _How many children does he have? _She wondered. She didn't wonder how he'd known Southern was a shambles; half Pern must know by that point. He was eyeing her oddly, she suddenly realized.

Feeling a little shy but more confident, due to the lack of Petia or Hannin over her shoulder, Yarrow walked purposefully over to stand by Mink who was shifting his stance, clearly uncomfortable. Well, she had SOME rank. . . Yarrow held out a hand and pointed to her chest. "Ya-row," she mouthed intently, a bit satisfied with herself. _Let Toric's get appreciate some of the mess I had to go through. _"HARPER Yarrow," she added. It wasn't technically true, but she had been acting as an apprentice Harper for Hannin, both drumming and writing his records. And she was the daughter of two of them.

The middle-aged lord seemed to get the crux of what she was saying to him. He had at least the courtesy to bow. "I am Lord Besic," he said to her, a little uneasily _like anyone talking to me here, _she thought with an internal sigh. Besic, Besic – oh, yes there was something about him being the heir to Toric, another of those who hadn't come forward when the man died. _So why appear now? _She wondered, as he turned to Mink and clearly said something, because the younger man colored. In fact, spots of anger appeared on Mink's cheeks and she'd never seen that in him before. He was answering, rather hotly from his body language.

". . . was confirmed!" was what she made out from his rapidly moving lips and clenched teeth. Very hard to read, though he then gestured in Yarrow's direction and turned to her. "YOU were there," he both said and this time signed. Quickly, but he did it, at least. When she didn't fully seem to get what he was communicating, he said and signed, ". . . when they made ME the Lord Holder of Southern."

_That was because nobody else was there to challenge it, _she remembered, wondering who'd tipped the man off to this fact. He clearly knew, though, since he said the same thing just then:

"_Nobody else from the family was there to challenge – making it an illegal placing, in my point of view."_

Technically, this wasn't correct either, Yarrow knew from the bits of Hold law she understood. A Hold could be taken by the nearest blood relative who was accessible. Under the circumstances, there had been nobody who could reliably act as steward till Toric's children were contacted, so the other Lord Holders had chosen Mink his cousin. They had said something about "Till later," she thought but tiredness and shock from the utter destruction here at Southern had wiped exact words from her mind.

"_. . . So," Besic was continuing, making sure she could see him – he wants a Harper to be witness so that this looks legal, _she realized – "I'm come to claim what's mine."

More rapid speaking and signing from Mink, on that topic. "Need – to let know Lords, can't do – all at once," she made out from the now clearly upset young man.

Besic only shrugged. "Let them know, then," he said, a bland look on his face. "Harper, drum away all you want; and while you're at it you might want to inform this young man of Hold Law."

Technically, she thought Besic was probably right. But she couldn't be entirely sure. And looking into Mink's anguished face just then made her feel terrible. She'd never been entirely certain she liked him, but he didn't deserve this treatment. Besic was just like his father had been, if all the horrible accounts were true. _Fire lizards won't stay with someone who mistreats them, _she remembered Menolly telling her once. Besic didn't seem to have one, any more than his father had for any length of time.

Yarrow felt a little trapped – more than a little. So, she did the one thing she knew how to do: she bowed to Mink and headed for the drum tower. Let Lord Besic think she was the Hold Harper for awhile longer. It would give her time to figure out what he was really doing there.


	13. Chapter 13

B'nick was the first to respond to Yarrow's drum-signal, which she hoped she'd kept cryptic enough that the would-be Lord Holders didn't fully understand it. _What's going on? 'Issues at Southern' could be anything; we haven't heard of any new 'quakes. _Briefly, she sent him news of what had happened and got an unmistakable feeling of surprise. She could practically see him whistling far away. _I'll come; T'gellan's busy but he's concerned, _he sent back a moment later. _And we'll notify those – who'd be interested. _

_I think there's something to find out here, _she returned. _For one thing, who let him know about it? Him specifically? And why? He never said anything before._

_Very true, _sent the green rider. _Are you in danger? This isn't some long-lost cousin of Toric's, you know. This is his heir, and he's as wily as the old man was. _

_I'm all right at present. _She was on her guard, that was for sure; the man made her hairs stand a little on end in a way Petia and Hannin never had. Those two had just been mean. Besic was – something different. Offhand, she sent, _do you have any idea how Lord Brevis and his Hold are doing?_

_Do you think he's involved?_

That gave Yarrow a start. She didn't like that thought one bit; Brevis was almost the exact opposite of his elder brother. He would have made an excellent Holder of Southern. But B'nick had a point: Brevis was also Toric's son. She might need to watch that. . . _I – don't know, _she sent back. _Has there been word from him?_

_No, but I was sweep-riding in that area today and saw very little rebuilding going on. In fact, Brevis seems to be holed up in a cavern system not far from there. A little cove on the seacoast, some miles from his original Holding. There are a few of his fishermen there with him. If he's planning something, we need to know._

Yarrow thought about it and nodded to herself. At that moment, Nisha and Tointel flew in from the ledge on the eastern side of the dilapidated tower. She smiled to herself; the little ones had always known that she couldn't hear them, and had figured out how to not startle her by appearing too much out of nowhere. Yarrow patted Nisha absently, though both lizards were alert, she noticed. _Are you picking up on the tension in the Hold, little ones? _She wondered, looking at whirling yellow eyes. Alert, but not too freaked-out, then. With a sigh, Yarrow headed back downstairs.

She found the main hall in an interesting state; Besic seemed to be holding court. He had a number of the residents gathered around, whether by their own volition or not remained to be seen. He was making a speech of sorts, while eating – _from our small supplies, he gets a banquet, it seems, _she thought, looking for Mink. The young man caught her eye from a corner where he was standing, looking uncertain. _This fight might already have been won. But. . . ._

Mink shrugged and signed something to her, around the order of "Well, he _is _Toric's heir. . . ."

Yarrow pursed her lips, heading toward him. "_You _are the designated Lord Holder of Southern," she signed. "Remember the committee? Lady Sharra is Toric's sister and she didn't make any claims to the land here. And where was he all this time, if he really wanted the place?"

There was a tap on her shoulder then, and she whirled to find Besic standing there, smiling pleasantly at her. He bowed. "You have drummed?" he said, over-enunciating his words in that way people had when speaking to her here. He even made a little tap-tap sign with his fingers so she'd be sure he was understood. Yarrow simply nodded. "Good, then! Of course, you may stay on as Harper once this unpleasant business is cleared up. Just a formality."

_How did you find out about it in the first place, then? _She wondered, but knew a direct question would never be met with a direct answer, not by this one.

He was nodding to Mink anyway, having apparently had all he wanted to do with her. ". . . quite good, though your stocks could use a little boost," he was saying.

Yarrow had an idea just then. _Perfect timing, _she thought. Quickly, she signed to Mink, "I could go check on Brevis – see what he's doing. _Fish, _you understand." She really hoped the young man understood. First he didn't seem to, and then a few seconds later undrstanding dawned.

He nodded to Besic. "My Harper has volunteered to go for assistance with supplies to the holding of your brother, Lord Brevis," he said. "They were hit rather hard by the quake themselves, but surely there's enough to share."

For only a second, she saw concern flicker across the older man's face, but he just bowed. "Very good, you're doing just as you should," he said, and added another bow for Yarrow.

_The sooner I get away from you the better, _she thought, wondering how Mink could stand the condescending tones. Oh, right, he was the son of Hannin and Petia. She bowed again and turned away, out of the Hold.

Out – and not far off – were more signs of destruction from the quake. _Right – of course those people wouldn't think to clear up the debris around the Hold; they never listen to Harper teachings here,_ she thought, groaning inwardly as she climbed over broken branch after broken branch, stumbling on bits of stone and wood. Not like the Pass was already over or anything. T'gellan would have a fit. Then again so would any Weyrleader. Slowly she made her way out eastward.

The usual landmarks were missing, like the patch of fellis and nettle that Yarrow used to figure out whether to go left or right when on a walk. She paused to take a breath, watching a trundlebug making its steady way over the remains of a large couple of bushes. For the first time she was a little nervous out here; the local felines must be hunting whatever was left for food. Yarrow had no doubt that they at least were happy there was more debris to cover them, make stalking prey easier.

_Come along now; you've firelizards and dragons a thought away, you can do this, _she scolded herself. It was probably just nerves, Besic must have rattled her more than she'd thought. _Then again, it's more likely the idea of Brevis being involved in this somehow. _She paused again after a particularly rough patch and wiped her hand over her brow. The heat that day wasn't helping.

But, she discovered after another half hour of tedious climbing and slow movement, she seemed to be going in the right direction. Yarrow started to see a few trenches, cracks in the ground – in one spot, a wide pit had opened and swallowed a whole patch of fellis root and some wildflowers. The insects were thick and the haze was merciless as the heat. She was thankful that she'd thought to bring a little flask for water.

The charred pool brought her up short. It was still steaming, and she had a coughing fit after a few moments standing near the place. _It's not passable here – and that's probably why Brevis hasn't been around to Southern, _she thought, feeling a flash of relief. It meant he was clear, he couldn't possibly be involved in whatever his slimy brother was up to. It meant – _...and he has a fire lizard who can send messages._

She sighed and resumed looking for a way around again, finally having to backtrack a ways to the south around yet another giant patch of insects and rubble. At least the bug population had been lower at the smoking pit.

Two hours later, Yarrow started to see signs of a cleared-out way, and headed for that with a sigh of reief. Firmer ground, much better – well at least it was kind of steady. _I bet this is Brevis's doing, so he must be nearby,_she thought and walked along the new path. After a while, she came to the coastline, that was likewise tidied up somewhat. _He's somewhere around here anyway. He must be._

A small entryway to the north led her directly along the coastline. No sign of boats or netting, _so B'nick wasn't kidding, _she thought, wondering again just why Brevis wasn't rebuilding like even Southern Hold was. She started to see the rubble that meant she was near the remains of his place, too; none of it had been touched and it had been entirely destroyed. Little was there that showed any sign of life, maybe a twig or leaf poking out of piles of stone and wood. Some smashed pottery.

Another mile, and she spotted the cove. It must have been hidden by the buildings the last time she was up here; the caves were fair-sized but could easily have been missed if you were only looking at the larger hold ones that were once there. Sure enough there was activity. People moved around; Yarrow spotted the rougher man who'd grabbed her on her first walk miles away from Brevis's Hold.

The second man she spotted made her blink: a dragonrider? Why was one here, arguing with Brevis, it looked like? The rider looked very upset, and he was wearing – Southern Weyr's colors, the same ones B'nick wore. _Definitely not B'nick though, _she thought, wondering what to do now as the man stomped off. His scarred face didn't tell her anything. Yarrow had no clue who he was. She gulped and headed for Brevis's general direction once the strange rider had gone off a fair distance.


	14. Chapter 14

Brevis whirled abruptly, startling her. He blinked rapidly, and almost seemed to pale for a moment upon seeing Yarrow. But he recovered fast enough to his normal genial state. "Yarrow! It's good to see you, though it must have been a hazardous journey coming here. How is your Hold standing up?"

She bowed to him. "We're as well as might be expected, I guess," she signed back. "And you?"

Brevis shrugged in his easy way – _one that Besic had too, _she realized, though on the older brother it was just – disturbing, at best. The young Lord waved a hand around, with a wry look on his face. A lot of rubble and junk strewn everywhere was what she saw. "We were unfortunately badly hit," he signed to her. "The main buildings were insalvageable. However, there are all these caves here and we are still not far from the coastline. My fishermen can still get out. A couple boats made it through the disaster."

They all should have, in fact, Yarrow knew; her lizards had sent her a picture of a nicely-sheltered cove not far from her current location. But she said nothing about that. _You are here to gather information, _she reminded herself sternly. "Are you all right for food and supplies, then?" she signed. She really wanted to ask him about that dragonrider, but kept it in check.

He ran a hand through his hair. "We are, mostly," he said, leading her along a twisting way that had been cleared-out better than the land she'd just come through. Oddly-made walls had been created from piles of rubble to line this lane. It was like nothing Yarrow had ever seen, and again she thought about Weyrleaders yelling about the amount of leaf and twig on the ground near the Hold – or what remained of it.

They presently came into a much more clear area, one that was by a series of open caves along a cliffwall that looked out onto the beach farther down. People were moving about here, though they were few and far between; _well, he did say that his fishermen were out at sea, or at least he seemed to be intimating that, _she thought. She did notice some odd scaffolding over to the west, a mile or so back . Yarrow had never seen any building bones like that.

Brevis noticed where she was looking, and smiled. "Yes, it's unusual, isn't it?" he signed to her but his eyes were sparkling. "You don't know; in a way this devastation has been very good for us!"

She pointed to herself. "'_US_?"

And his smile broadened further. "Well, you see, everyone at and near Southern," he added simply, grinning. _Ah, _she thought, and took a deep breath. "So anyway, tell me how it really fares down there," he continued, and took her arm to lead her inside one of the caverns, _and away from the strange stuffs outside._

It was pleasant and cool in the caverns, Yarrow found. Brevis brought her down a winding passage that was being chipped at by drudges and other people, men mostly though a few women were there as well. He didn't mention what they were doing; _shoring up the cave walls, maybe? _She wondered, though didn't see anything being put in to hold up the ceiling. But each was very intent on their work. _It's almost like a mine, by all accounts, _she thought. Though, Yarrow had never heard of mines on this end of Southern Continent.

They finally came to a room that led off the corridor, and had its own thick wood door, one that she thought must have been salvaged from the Hold remains by the amount of carving on it. The door opened into a room that was small but cozy enough: a little table, a chair, a bed. A half-empty bookcase. Some dust came down from the ceiling as they entered, and Yarrow coughed, but Brevis took her hand soothingly and made her look at him. "It's all right," he signed. "A natural side effect of all the chipping and digging outside. You get used to it."

He insisted on giving her some dried fish and very weak klah they had somewhere in this cave-hold. It wasn't bad. As they ate, Brevis signed to her about the horrors of the quake on the seacoast; the farther end of the hold had been taken by lava flows – yes, they came out this far, he insisted – and the coastline had been battered by huge waves that were brought on by the first and second quakes. Some of his best ships were gone now; he hadn't had time to bring them into the cove or send them far enough out to sea.

In return, Yarrow told him about being brought out to Monaco along with Petia. She carefully tried to avoid mentioning Mink, but somehow Brevis guessed it anyway. "I heard," he signed to her, "that there is new ownership of Southern. Dragonriders have been here, of course, checking on us."

Yarrow thought again about the strange rider but only nodded. "The son of Hannin and Petia," she signed.

Besic only blinked, looking surprised. "Oh, good to know he survived," he signed. _You weren't expecting that? _She wondered. Though it would explain some of Besic's behavior. He smiled at her. "I always thought you yourself would make a good one."

Yarrow shook her head firmly. "I would rather be a Harper," she signed and the young lord smiled.

"And a lovely Harper you are."

He showed her a little bit around the Hold such as it was, pointing out the way that caves could be more stable than buildings. Yarrow wasn't so sure herself; after being able to go in and out so easily living at Southern Hold for so long, the closed-in caverns made her feel a little claustrophobic. _It's only for a little while, _she kept saying inwardly to calm her nerves.

"So you think you will stay in these caves?" she signed to him. "They may be stable, but they're closer to the Volcano than your previous Hold was."

"Great point. Oh, I don't know; we like it here," he signed back, smiling. And shrugged. "You know, the earthquake unearthed some prospects for me, so maybe it'd be good to stay."

Now that was interesting. Yarrow found herself wishing she'd gotten a chance before to inspect the region more closely; _how open was this area before the disaster? Or is he just using it as an excuse..._

That couldn't be right, part of her thought. Brevis wouldn't do something that slick – _but his brother might, and his late father definitely would, _she made herself realize. _Then again they wouldn't admit it, necessarily... so many questions._ "What kind of metal or something did you find, anyway?" she signed, to see how much she could get out of him after all.

Brevis reached into a pouch, and pulled out a chunk of grayish-something that shone dully in the hazy light. "This is iron," he signed to her. "Tons of it here – farther towards the Volcano is something the Ancients used to call 'obsidian,' and some strange rocks that are the hardest thing I've ever seen. My uncle said they were called something like 'dimmin,' but he wasn't sure. Not a metal, just kind of pretty to look at."

His uncle was here, then. Yarrow wondered at that; she'd never heard anything bad said abNo out – Hamian, was it? Toric didn't like him much by all accounts. _What's he doing here, then? _Something just didn't fit right, she was sure, but she couldn't put a finger on it. There were too many questions.

She looked out to sea from the cliffside they'd come to; it was a small one, you could reach the beach below by jumping six inches. No plant life had survived the eruption or the quake in this area, far over from where Brevis's original Hold had been. But the cliffs and caverns stretched all the way down, and she could now see the smoking tip of the mountain at least ten miles off in the distance. Cracks and gullies led all the way towards the thing, some full of black or brilliant red and golden stuff.

"Pretty, isn't it?" he signed. "That black stuff is tar, very sticky and you don't want to walk in it even when it's cooled down. And the red-yellow is lava, which you also don't want. I did some geology studies when I was younger, over at Landing. Believe it or not, there'll be plants there again, soon, if the Ancients are correct about things like that."

"You studied at Landing, so you don't prescribe to the notion that the Ancients were bad," she wondered.

Brevis threw back his head, and she could feel the vibrations of his laughter. "Like my fathter? Let me tell you, he also had a saying, 'know your enemy.' Da believed in _knowledge, _just not progress – unless it was something he could exploit." He shrugged, still grinning. "I don't see much wrong with that as long as I'm not hurting anyone. After all, doesn't everybody exploit something or someone to get what they want?"

Yarrow thought about it. Her head was swimming a little, with all the information she needed to process, all the new questions she needed to sort through. "I guess so," she finally signed to him. "Could we head back? It's getting a little late, and I'm in need of a drink."

"Beautiful view," he signed, and then suddenly she was holding his hand. He squeezed it as she blushed bright red. "I wouldn't want you to fall or anything, you see; you said you're tired." He ran a hand through her hair. "Must protect my favorite Harper."

Yarrow blinked, her heart pounding, as they stood there for what felt like an eternity. And then he just turned, and started to lead her back towards the caves.


	15. Chapter 15

Yarrow stretched and stared at the ceiling. Brevis had convinced her to remain as his guest at the "Hold" the past night, which was pleasat enough though it left her with a slightly uneasy feeling. _I hope Mink realizes that I'm just looking for information, _she thought, flushing as she remembered that moment right before they came back to the caverns here. Yarrow's stomach felt like it was in knots, but it wasn't a horrible sensation. Tointel stirred beside her and chirped, disappearing to find his breakfast. Nisha was already gone.

The little room where he'd put her up that night was tiny but serviceable, in its own way. It had a little cot low to the floor, a chipped basin for washing, and a ragged tapestry on the wall that was too faded for its own good. She yawned again, and got up to wash her face and throw her tunic and pants on. At that point, she found they'd been replaced with a lovely blue dress with white trim. It looked a little old, and she wondered at it. But there wasn't anything else to wear around.

Brevis came in as she was rolling her hair up into a knot, and he bowed. "You look lovely," he said and signed to her. "The dress was my mother's once; it does you justice. I'm sorry it isn't specifically Harper blue, though."

"Thank you, just the same," she signed back.

"I have to see to some more – reconstructing – but I should be back soon," he added.

Yarrow blinked. "Could I come?" she signed.

Brevis shrugged. "All right, but it's boring."

He got her breakfast, which was more of the dried fish and bread, and then they went out toward the rubble piles just south of the mine site. The day was hazy and hotter than its predecessor. Gnats were everywhere, in little clouds, and flashes of lightning showed in the sky every so often. _Heat lightning, _she thought, batting off a flying biter.

The scaffolding by the west end of the mines was swarming with people, and she looked with interest at it, not having gotten much of a chance the day before. They seemed to be digging in specific spots, but just there, and every few feet she saw holes that led inwards to the caverns or thereabouts. Well, he had mentioned iron was found here. Yarrow knew that was used for making various things. _Toric would have loved this, _she thought absently.

At that moment, she felt a light breeze, and Tointel landed on her shoulder pecking at her to get her attention. Yarrow winced; she hated it when he did that. _What is it? _She sent to the little one, sensing urgency. The firelizard showed her a dead dragon and a scarred man, both in flames. It was a horrific sight, and she stumbled backward.

Someone grabbed her arm to stop her fall, though, twisting it. She looked up into the face of the man she'd just seen in Tointel's vision, and once the day before. His pock-marked face was from burns, she realized, gulping. Tointel and now Nisha were flapping about, nipping at him though he ignored them, his tight-set face focused on her.

"Who – are – you?" he growled at her, shaking her a little.

She pointed to her ear, indicating she couldn't hear him, but the former dragonrider was paying no heed.

"WHO?"

Then, there was Brevis. He took Yarrow from the man and said something to him, which made him back off. But he scowled at Yarrow as he left, stalking toward the cliffs.

"Are you all right?" he asked her, looking concerned. Yarrow was rubbing her arm.

She nodded. "Who is that?" she signed.

"His name's Mason – used to be M'sun, a former brownrider. He and his dragon were near the volcano when it erupted, and both got away only just in time. We found Mason wandering by the cliffs, out of his mind. He's lucky he still has the use of his faculties."

_Why would anyone have need to be out by the Volcano? _She wondered.

The clouds rolled in and there was a brief shower that afternoon, as Yarrow and Brevis were taking another walk. He seemed more interested in her than anything else just then, and she was both flattered and concerned. Yarrow's senses were heightened just then; _a firelizard's in heat, maybe? _She wondered. Nisha had looked a little extra green. And Brevis was – well, he was just considerate, she figured.

Maybe.

The two of them went under a cliff as the rain came down, and that was when he kissed her. Yarrow pulled back, surprised, half at the rush of sensations she got from the touch of lips, and half just surprise it had happened at all. She felt like things were building in her, like a tidal wave, like a volcano, and that she'd be swept away if she didn't control it. His arm around her felt like molten lava, and she wanted to sink into it and melt. Her heart pounded. She blinked, wide-eyed.

Brevis smiled. He reached out and gently ran a finger over her lips. "You're so lovely," he said to her. "So, so lovely."

"_This is – what is this?" _she signed to him, had never felt these sensations before, this internal throbbing desire for – she didn't know what.

He smiled more broadly. "I like you, Yarrow – I want to hold you." His hand moved from her lips to caress her cheek. "I like you a lot. Do you understand what I mean?"

She thought a minute, and her mind turned to the issues she'd had with Petia and the mystery of the "checking the sheets," and of having children by Mink in some fashion but not knowing how that happened. She hadn't even gotten to learn what the thing had meant, and she certainly hadn't borne a youngster. But Petia's sly scheming and Mink's fumbling timidity were a far cry from this electric touch that was so simple, so tender. Yarrow bit her lip in confusion.

_And then there's the fact you're wondering what he's up to, out here with this mine and his abandoned Hold, _she reminded herself sternly, even as she reached out a curious hand and touched his cheek back. It felt a little rough, like touching a nettle, but pleasant all the same, and it increased the rush inside of her.

Slowly, very slowly, he drew her in, and all Yarrow's thoughts and compunctions were flooded away, swept off on a tidal wave that left nothing more than herself and Brevis, and their hearts were singing together.

Yarrow pinched herself, wondering if this were real. So _that _was what Petia had been so sneaky about? Somehow she had a feeling it would have been different, very different, with Mink. She wrinkled her nose at the thought. No, she didn't feel like bedding with him. But Brevis. . . She blushed again, thinking about it.

It was now evening, and the stars were coming out. She stretched languidly, reveling in the feelings. Her lower half was a bit sore, but it wasn't anything she'd have traded. Oh no, definitely not. She watched a night moth flapping about in the gloaming.

He touched her arm gently, and she smiled over at him. _Oh, Brevis, _she thought, and for the first time in years she actually wished she could hear and speak. Yarrow stroked his cheek and he kissed her hand.

"_We should return," _he signed to her, making the movements of his hands large ones to be sure she could see in the dim light. Yarrow nodded.

As they headed back toward the cliffs and the makeshift Hold, Yarrow saw the dragonrider again, bumbling about. _Mason, I need to remember that._

Just another bit of information to file away, she knew; then she looked closer. Mason was dragging a bag over to a little boat down on the beach. _Who went fishing at night? _Was her first question, and the second was, _what's in that bag? _

Brevis broke away from her and headed toward the man, struck up a conversation with him. Yarrow sighed, suddenly remembering the reason why she was here again. _Stupid, stupid – to get so – distracted, _she cursed herself, but at the same time she didn't regret a thing about it. Her feelings felt so confused! She bit her lip and tried to see what the two men were saying, but in this light it was difficult. All Yarrow could really do was watch the gestures they were making, body language. Brevis stood with an easy posture at first, then he changed to arms crossed over his chest and leaning in – a more aggressive pose, she knew. And Mason on the other hand was all over the place, clearly yelling something at him, while he tried to be sure and keep a good clutch on that bag.

Then, another form appeared from the shadows: a woman, her hair scraggly and her posture stooped like someone who'd been working in the mines all her life, or at a drudge's work. But it wasn't either, Yarrow saw as a cloud cleared out from the sickle moon.

It was Petia.


	16. Chapter 16

Yarrow blinked, feeling her heartbeat increase. She bit her lip, and sent a message to B'nick. _Do you know of any dragonriders who are – dragonless? _

_You're all right? _was the instant reply. _We've been worried._

She let him know what had happened in the past two days – carefully. The reply was what she figured; stunned silence.

Then, slowly, _there've been a couple riders missing. . . K'drin is the one we are not absolutely certain of. Brownrider. Uh. . . but he wouldn't do anything. . . _Yarrow could sense a little mistrust there, that she didn't normally get from dragonriders. But, she also knew that they could be a very catty bunch, under the right circumstances.

_I didn't mention that he'd done anything, B'nick, _she pointed out. Though, she couldn't get the image of Petia reappearing – _with _the dragonrider – at the questionable Hold that Brevis had now. _Well, maybe I sort of did, I guess._

_It is an offense, _replied Visigoth forcibly. He sounded troubled, more so than his rider did. _No dragon in his right mind would allow his rider to do something of this sort!_

Yarrow thought about those words, as she went up into the Hold and met Brevis, giving the excuse that she'd been figuring on something. For once her reputation for being the quiet, thoughtful type of person was useful, instead of a hindrance.

Petia of course was not to be seen. Yarrow didn't mention what she'd seen at all during breakfast, instead making small talk about the weather and praising Brevis again for his ingeniousness in the face of disaster to his Hold. But the whole time she was thinking, _is it better to go back to Besic at Southern or stay here with Petia and some rogue ex-dragonrider ?_ She sighed; no ideas on that front. She did know, though, that her two-day sojourn at Brevis's Hold, if continued, would raise questions with the quick-thinking Besic. "I should return," she signed to the young Lord Holder.

He just nodded. "What do you need?"

"A little foodstuffs," she replied.

"A little" was what she'd expected; not the giant amount her lover decided to pile on her, plus a runnerbeast to carry the stuffs. "I'd escort you myself, but I need to get something done here," he signed to her, looking regretful. "I'll send Mason with you. He's trustworthy, it'll be all right." There was something odd about the man's words, Yarrow thought. He kissed her goodbye as if he didn't expect to see her again, and that put her more on her guard.

The ex-dragonrider moved at a pretty good pace for an injured man. He didn't seem to care about slag pits or insects, just charged through the brush at a clip, slashing at whatever was in his way like nothing mattered. Yarrow wondered if that was what all people were like if they lost their dragons. _It must be a horrible fate, to live on after your dragon dies, _she thought sadly. Still, she was panting before very long.

She finally had to grab Mason's shoulder and make him face her. "Rest. _NOW. I need to rest, _"she signed, pointing at her chest.

The answer surprised her. He threw back his head and laughed. And when he looked back at her, his eyes – they were glittering, not with anger but with something else. "You want to rest, eh?" he sneered. "Hear that, Yagoth, she wants to rest!"

Yarrow whirled, expecting to see a dragon, or even a firelizard, but there was nothing with them. When she turned back, Mason was patting the air, giving it scritches or something. She blinked, feeling blood drain from her face. _Must be strong, _she thought forcibly. "Um – yes, rest."

He spat at her, then. "No, Yagoth says we shouldn't rest," he informed her. "And he's _never _wrong about things, you know." He grabbed her hand and they kept moving, through the heat and the brush and insects. They passed through the areas that were extremely difficult to breathe in, because of smoke, and they went over rocks that Mason kept trying to go _through, _because "Yagoth says we can go through rocks – dragons have a number of skills that the older riders didn't know about, you know." This way, she got a lot of bruises and skinned knees. Her hand hurt from a cut she'd gotten in the brush.

After awhile, it was obvious to Yarrow that she wasn't being led in the right direction. "We are going the wrong way," she tried to sign to Mason once, but she didn't manage to get much through to him. The runnerbeast was thankfully a rugged sort, and didn't seem much to mind where they were headed. The imaginary dragon or whatever it was, on the other hand, had its own agenda, it seemed.

"We are going to go back to the Weyr, and apologize for it," he said, those eyes flashing at her and at the same time welling up with tears. The unstable man clearly had something on his mind.

"For what?" Maybe she could get him to talk, maybe that would help some.

He laughed again. "You don't know. Nobody knows, of course! Except me and Yagoth here." He tenderly nuzzled a patch of air. "Oh yes, we know what we did. And YOU, you won't stop us from apologizing for it!"

"No, no I won't," she indicated firmly, by shaking her head. Then she got a great idea. "I am representative of your Weyr, you know." She indicated his Weyr by the sign for it: pointing to the knot on his shoulder. B'nick's Weyr, she knew.

Mason blinked. But then he nodded. "Sorry, Lady Rider, it must be the heat. I didn't recognize you at first."

She put a consoling hand on his arm. "Tell me," she urged. Part of her was terrified; this man was very confused, very erratic – probably more so than Brevis had even thought, whatever his plan's had originally been. She put that out of her mind for the moment. "Tell me what happened."

Mason burst into tears then, sinking to the ground. _Oh good, some rest, _she thought, as the man sobbed.

"We killed Toric!" he wailed, looking right at her, his eyes wide and terrified, his pock-marked, burned face horrible to see. "Besic – the young Lord, he said the lord was getting cold feet about the Abominators, didn't want to make the final push against the Halls. . . I went to talk to him, and we fought about it. . . " That seemed likely. Toric's temper was pretty legendary. The ex-dragonrider leaned closer to Yarrow and she had to steel herself not to balk. "He called his dogs, tried to run me off the place – what was I supposed to do?" His voice was obviously canting lower and lower, and for once in her life Yarrow was thankful she couldn't hear. "He called his dogs on me," he repeated, moving his lips very little, but she understood well enough. His voice went up again, and she could read better. The heat swirling around them seemed to be more intense by the minute. "They attacked me, when I hit him – and then it was all smoke and flame. . . ."

Yarrow blinked, horrified. Such a thing had never happened on Pern before, not to anybody's knowledge.

He grabbed her arm, making her look at him, pulling her in. There was a pleading look on his face. "Please – he was just defending me, he didn't realize anything else was going to happen, he was just defending me! I didn't tell him to kill Toric, I was just trying to make the lord listen. . . ."

Yarrow's mind felt numb. A thousand thoughts were running around inside that didn't fully connect. She wanted to cut and run from this frightening man, who'd actually managed to make a dragon kill someone – no, wait, his dragon had to have been a little screwed up to be able to do that, she realized. M'sun, M'sun.

Besic.

Yarrow suddenly realized the quick-minded young lord had known very well that M'sun was someone who'd fight with Toric. Besic was slimy, but no fool – he was probably thrilled at the outcome of the whole matter, she thought blankly. Shocked. Besic had been responsible for the death of his own father.

She gulped, seeing that the ex-dragonrider was still clutching her arm and staring at her intently. "Well, this is good," she tried to convey. "We should – return to the Weyr."

"All right, but Yagoth's injured, I'm afraid, so we have to walk," was his prompt reply.

_B'nick?_ She sent.

The instant reply was blinding rage, and confusion.

_He's been through a lot, _she sent firmly, trying to cut through the emotion. Before more people were hurt by this. _He was not to blame, it seems – I don't actually feel any malice from him. Whatever he was once is very much covered in years of guilt and pain._

_To kill. . . _Visigoth seemed as rattled as his rider.

_Please, be gentle with him when he comes. I don't want to scare him by getting dragons to come pick us up._

_He will know the way to his Weyr. _And that was all B'nick would send.

Yarrow hoped so.


	17. Chapter 17

The Weyr loomed closer, and Yarrow took a deep breath. _Can I really do this? _She wondered. But, Mason had been so calm once she'd "revealed" herself as a "Dragonrider." She hoped everyone would understand; he'd been very freaked out before that. So scary to travel with.

She hadn't heard from B'nick in hours, nor Visigoth or any other dragon or rider, but she could still feel them. The feeling got more intense, the closer they came to the Weyr. It was like a pulsing, throbbing miasma of sensations that Yarrow couldn't even piece together.

The dragon on watch spotted them, she knew, and Yarrow gulped as she felt the inward growl from her and her rider. _I – can do this, _she told herself forcefully. The sand and the brush all seemed to be dragging her back, something nice to hang on to, and to hide in. It was nice, it was something she was used to. It almost called her, though plants didn't speak any more than the ground did.

The way up to Southern Weyr was rocky. They were on a low cliff, edged in beach peas and trundlebugs. The sun was hot. Yarrow felt the heat intensely on her neck, and figured she'd likely been burned. Nisha sat on her shoulder, broadcasting her anxiousness about Mason and the whole situation, but being very cautious because Yarrow kept telling her to. Tointel kept out of sight.

They went up into the Weyr, and Yarrow felt the intensity, so much that she could almost pass out from it. Anger, confusion, rage, fury, fright – none of them could believe it, not dragon nor rider. And they all feared that it could happen to them. Yes, she felt that, but otherwise, she couldn't get any one of them to talk to her. It was as if they suddenly couldn't trust her because she was with this person, this thing who'd once been one of them and was now – what? She had no idea.

_Which way do we go? Who do we talk to? _She asked in her mind, knowing that they were all listening. There was nobody around, they were all staying away so it was like going through a dead Hold. Mason walked with his head down beside her, quiet and complacent, though she could sense that inside he was a raging mess – worse than the sensation of the dragons and the riders of the Weyr that lay in wait for them. _Who? _She demanded. _I brought him here, so SOMEONE COME TALK TO US! _

A man appeared, sandy hair, the usual dragonrider muscularness. He walked with the confidence of a leader. Mason seemed to know him; he immediately gave the dragonriders' salute and dropped to his knees before him, babbling something or other.

That was when the other riders appeared; she sensed them before she saw them, but she didn't know what to do. _You did well, _a voice came quietly into her mind. She looked and saw an older woman striding toward her. _Adrea, I am Adrea, _said the voice. Adrea put a hand on her shoulder.

Yarrow started to cry, and she didn't know why. She felt like the world was swirling around her, and she could hear the murmurs of dragons and riders – a million questions and exclamations and statements and confusions all rolled into one thing. It was going faster now, and she saw Mason and his Weyrleader in the center of it, that was all she could see clearly, everything else was fuzzy. . . .

She woke up in a strange bed, with Nisha on her side, watching. The little firelizard blinked at her, sending confused images of dragons, dragons everywhere, and very upset people. Nisha didn't really understand, but apparently the worst of that was over because she was only reporting on it.

Someone pushed back the curtain and entered: B'nick. He looked at her, a mix of frustration and anger in him still, that she could feel. But it wasn't directed at her. He was just worried about her, that showed in his eyes. "You feeling better?" he signed.

Yarrow nodded.

"It's going to be – all right, I think," he signed slowly, looking confused. "K'van and Adrea talked to him a lot, you were right. He's – he's not right anymore. . . " B'nick's frantic signing broke down, and so did he, and he put his head down on the end of the bed, sobbing. Yarrow felt her friend's intense sorrow, and she put her hand on his head to try and comfort him, because she didn't know what else to do. She knew that the pain dragonriders felt at such times wasn't something other people could comprehend fully, so she just tried to be there for him. He'd certainly done it enough times for her.

After awhile, they hugged, each knowing the other couldn't fully grasp what was going on with the other person. _I missed you, I missed you! _He finally sent to her. Yarrow nodded.

"I am back now," she signed to him, looking firm. "And now – well, now we know."

Yarrow nodded, sitting up. She got out of the bed, and went out into the Weyr with them. The other dragonriders were hanging about, many watching her cautiously, others with a little awe on their faces. Oddly, she found herself looking for Mason.

_He is – with the kitchen drudges, _said someone who Yarrow couldn't identify. She started, a little shocked at this ultimate decision. _Well, what would you do? _She reminded herself. It was up to them; Mason was one of their own. To be made into a drudge – then again, he could have been sent to the mines in Crom. To be just made into a drudge was kinder, maybe, she figured after a few minutes' thought.

B'nick caught up with her, and they walked out to the beach. Visigoth was there already, bathing in the water with some other dragons. "What are you going to do now?" B'nick asked her.

"_What do you mean?" Yarrow signed, feeling uncomfortable. So much had happened. . . ._

_And you're free._

Yarrow blinked.

She hadn't thought of that. Her whole journey, looking for the truth about who killed Toric, the last request for her because of her parents and who she was, was over. She could go anywhere now, do anything. She wasn't stuck in a sham marriage anymore, wasn't under Petia's thumb. . . .

_Petia. You know about. . . ._

_Yes, _he sent to her, looking sad as he brushed hair out of her eyes. A friendly gesture. _I'm afraid Brevis and his brother both will have to be put on trial. They can't get out of it this time. It looks like Mink will Hold more than he thought he ever would._

She stared at him, her heart sinking. "Brevis?" she signed, feeling a choke in her throat. Inwardly, she knew why; he'd at least harbored two criminals, and who knew what part he'd played in the death of his father?

Yarrow took a deep breath and nodded. It had to happen, it was inevitable.

Adrea came to her room next day. Yarrow had been working in the kitchen, and helping with the Weyrlings. She was resting, talking with B'nick, when the Weyrwoman appeared. She and B'nick exchanged sorrowful glances, a private look that said a lot. They understood something that Yarrow knew she never would.

The Weyrwoman turned to Yarrow and sighed. _My signing is bad, but I hear you know the inner speech? _She sent. When Yarrow nodded, _good. _

"I understand lips, too," Yarrow signed, pointing to her mouth. Adrea nodded.

"So, you've done us a great service, bringing – him – here," she said, slowly. "He will be – taken care of."

"And," Bnick added, "I was just mentioning that the others will be brought to trial."

"We don't know how to reward you," said Adrea. "K'van would have come – but he's taken this very hard, like much of the Weyr. Yarrow, I know you've had a rough road. I'm sorry for all the pressure that was put on you, to bring him here." She smiled lamely, shuffling her feet like a girl.

Nobody knew exactly how to act anymore, it seemed. Yarrow felt confused herself. So many emotions ran through her mind all at once, and they weren't connecting well. She felt almost as trapped as she had back when Petia was holding her in an invisible cage back at the Hold.

Yarrow shook her head. "I need to rest, and think, if I might?"

The dragonriders nodded. On his way out the door, B'nick squeezed her shoulder.

When they were gone, she cried for a long time.

Yarrow faced a new day with new possibilities, not sure of where to go. She spent a little bit helping out in the Weyr kitchen, cutting vegetables and getting meat salted for preservation. She went out to the shoreline to fish, and collected shells. Once she found a large flock of firelizards, who wheeled up into the sky like a beautiful, moving rainbow.

_Whee – click! Whee – click! _Laughed the dolphins out in the water. _Come play, come play! _They cried.

This time, there was nobody and nothing to stop her.


End file.
